


Just Business

by honooko



Series: Office!AU [1]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Corporate Espionage, GROOVL1N kids are mentioned because they are Good Boys, Hakyeon Has Principles, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hongbin needs therapy, Implied Rabin - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Taekwoon has none, implied Hyuken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 55,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: Jung Taekwoon is the son of a CEO; Cha Hakyeon is the HR director meant to show him the ropes. Taekwoon has other ideas, and Hakyeon is going to have to resist them.
Relationships: Cha Hakyeon | N/Jung Taekwoon | Leo
Series: Office!AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759531
Comments: 34
Kudos: 104





	Just Business

**Author's Note:**

> I spent so, so long on this beast of a fic and finally, FINALLY, on this the anniversary of VIXX, I have completed it. I have not beta'd it though, so please forgive me for the occasional typo; Microsoft Word gives up around 100 pages in, and it's 174...
> 
> For Isa, Denden, Pammie, Kai, and Joji. ♥ ilu guys ;;;

Taekwoon only realized he’d zoned out when everyone at the table started looking at him expectantly. Blinking, he attempted to remember what they’d even been talking about; it was something about exchange rates affecting holdings in Singapore. Or was it a merger in Malaysia? Possibly a shipment of... something... trapped in customs in the EU.

Probably.

“Uh,” Taekwoon said. The group around the conference table continue to stare at him, smiles on their faces that were becoming increasingly strained. “Synergy.” Maybe the buzzword would suffice.

“Jung-ssi,” said the Head of Acquisitions, “How would synergy improve the transportation strike in Brazil?”

“Um,” Taekwoon said. “I... don’t know,” he admitted, slinking down in his chair a bit. The room as a whole seemed to sigh at once; Taekwoon felt himself flushing in embarrassment.

His father had put him on this assignment to help him become more familiar with the company, but so far, he’d just been shuffled from one department to the next as each head attempted to include him before realizing he had essentially zero experience and very little industry knowledge; he’d just graduated with a degree in business, but his father’s company did _so many things_ it was impossible for him to absorb all of it. Since he was essentially dead weight at that point, instead of doing the incredibly uncomfortable task of telling the son of the CEO that he didn’t know what he was doing, they passed him on to someone else.

“Jung-ssi,” a woman, Gong-ssi, said, jerking him from his thoughts. “We’re finished.” Everyone was already leaving the room; the woman hung behind, blocking the doorway.

“I think perhaps your skill set isn’t... suited to this department,” she said delicately. “We were of course honored you joined us, but—”

“It’s fine,” Taekwoon said, well used to this conversation by now. He’d lost track of the number; it was somewhere around nine or ten at this point. “Thank you for your time.” She seemed satisfied with this and left in a rush, probably to complete whatever work he’d held her back from completing. She might even have been redoing work he’d been given; being that no one was telling him whether he was doing something right or not, most of what he’d done wasn’t right at all.

Nobody would say it to his face though; instead they smiled politely and quietly redid everything, tolerating his presence as long as they could. He hadn’t even hit three days this time; the longest he’d been anywhere was marketing. He’d at least had a course on it in university and didn’t massively fuck anything up, but he also was devoid of any ideas that would help the department in any way whatsoever.

It didn’t help that no one would even talk to him; they were polite, formal, professional—but not friendly. He was basically a prince in their eyes, untouchable. The only son of the CEO, the future of the company, someone whose age and inexperience didn’t matter half as much as his family ties did. When he entered break rooms, conversations died and people found excuses to leave.

Taekwoon went back to the desk he’d been given and collected his limited belongings: a family photo, a mug with the logo of his university soccer team on it, and a pen he’d stolen from Research and Development.

Gong-ssi appeared behind him.

“It seems like you’re on your way to internal affairs; the chief of Human Resources would be delighted to have you on his team,” she said brightly, as if he’d been promoted rather than dumped. HR? He knew basically nothing about it, which meant it was just one more department he’d burden with his incompetence.

“Thank you,” he said anyway.

This sucked.

“Cha-sunbaenim,” Sanghyuk said, “I cordially request your assistance.”

“I don’t have anything for you unless you want more collating,” Hakyeon informed him. He looked up from the stack of resumes he was browsing and smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Hyung, I’m bored as hell,” Sanghyuk said, sagging against the door frame. “I’ll take anything that isn’t stamping mail, collating, or stapling. Please, I’m begging you.”

“I mean,” Hakyeon said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve got some things I need photocopied.”

“I beat out forty of my upperclassmen for this internship and you want me to _photocopy_?” Sanghyuk said, frustrated. “Why am I even here?”

“Credit, I’m assuming,” Hakyeon said. “We’re definitely not paying you.”

“I think I’m allergic to the glue we use on envelopes,” Sanghyuk said. 

“Really?”

“I’m also allergic to alphabetizing, sending form-letter emails, and carrying copy paper from the supply room to literally everywhere.”

“That’s what you get for being available and strong,” Hakyeon informed him, looking back down at the resumes. 

“Give me _something of value_ to do, _please_ ,” Sanghyuk begged. “I’m _dying_.”

Hakyeon sighed.

“Alright, come here,” he said, beckoning Sanghyuk into his office. He gestured for Sanghyuk to pull up a chair to sit across the desk from him and split his stack of resumes in half. Sanghyuk moved so quickly it looked like he’d teleported; Hakyeon felt a stab of guilt. This poor kid just wanted to work, but nobody gave him even a second’s thought.

“Everything you read here is 110% confidential,” Hakyeon instructed him. “I don’t want your _dog_ to know, got it?”

“Super duper secret,” Sanghyuk said seriously.

“These are the latest batch of resumes applying for that opening in PR,” he explained. “We’re doing screening. If there’s no cover letter, it’s out. If the resume is more than three pages, it’s out. If the text is comic sans, put it in a different pile so we can burn it in a ritual later.”

“People send things in _comic sans_?!” Sanghyuk squeaked incredulously. 

“They also send things in colored text,” Hakyeon said. “That’s in the no pile as well.”

“Typos?”

“Depends on the frequency and severity. If there’s one or two, everybody’s human. If it looks like it was typed in pitch darkness without spell-check on—”

“It’s out,” Sanghyuk said, nodding. “Got it.”

“If there’s anything you’re on the fence about, leave it in, we’ll catch it at the next stage of screening,” Hakyeon instructed. “All clear?” Sanghyuk nodded again, and Hakyeon waved at him; he started reading immediately, scanning and sorting without hesitation. Honestly, it really did help Hakyeon out even if it was a bit sketchy to put an intern to work in a confidential department. He’d recruited Sanghyuk himself; he knew the kid deserved better than stapling.

There was a knock on his door; Hakyeon looked up.

“Come in,” he said. The door opened to show a tall young man with an angular face, but a soft mouth and slightly rounded cheeks. He looked strikingly familiar somehow.

“Is this Human Resources?” he asked in a soft voice. Hakyeon smiled at him warmly.

“That’s us,” he said. “How can I help you?” He glanced at Sanghyuk; if this young man had something private to discuss, the intern would have to leave.

“I’m—I’m supposed to talk to the director,” the young man said, visibly nervous. “I’m being transferred.”

“I’m the director,” Hakyeon informed him. “Where are you being transferred to?” Some people came to him now and then about transfers, usually it they felt like the transfer was being done to punish them. International transfers upset people the most, since the postings could be anywhere, and for years at a time. This man seemed too young for that kind of transfer though.

“Here,” he said. “Did they—not tell you?”

“Here?” Hakyeon blinked. “You’re being—oh.” Suddenly it came back to him; in a director’s meeting about two weeks ago, they were informed that the CEO’s son would being doing rounds of the company. He was supposed to stay in the more... business-related departments though.

“Jung... Taekwoon?” Hakyeon said, pulling the name from memory. Taekwoon nodded, and Hakyeon waved him in, standing and reaching out to shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Cha Hakyeon.”

“You’re—you’re the director?” Taekwoon said, sounding surprised. “You’re... young.”

“Because he’s good,” Sanghyuk muttered. Hakyeon glanced at him to see if he was being cheeky, but it seemed the mumble was a result of him still working on the stack of resumes.

“I’ve been given a lot of opportunities,” Hakyeon said. “Please, have a seat. Sanghyuk, scootch over. This is our intern, Han Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk, this is Jung Taekwoon.” Sanghyuk glanced up, bobbed his head, and looked down again. “He’s the son of CEO Jung.”

“What?!” Sanghyuk squawked, looking up in alarm. “The CEO?!”

“That’s what I said,” Hakyeon told him, smiling. Sanghyuk launched himself to his feet, extending his hand to Taekwoon and bowing.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jung-ssi,” Sanghyuk said stiffly. “I look forward to working with you.” Taekwoon seemed... sad as he took Sanghyuk’s hand and shook it. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said, much less formally. Sanghyuk straightened, but glanced at Hakyeon, unsure of whether or not he should sit back down or not. Hakyeon smiled at him.

“Keep going, we need to finish that stack by the end of today,” he instructed Sanghyuk. He gestured for Taekwoon to follow him to the small office connected to his that contained a comfortable chair and small sofa, plus a low table; there was a tiny coffee machine in the corner. Mostly he used the room for interviews, but sometimes it was also a place for people to vent.

Taekwoon trailed after him; he had a small box under one arm.

“Coffee?” he asked; Taekwoon nodded, glancing around the small room nervously. “Cream, sugar?”

“Both please,” Taekwoon said. He sat down on the sofa, but he still looked extremely uncomfortable. Hakyeon made the coffee briskly, bringing the cup back over and placing it on the table as he sat down too.

“So,” Hakyeon said, smiling. “How is your tour going?”

“It’s... going,” Taekwoon said. His head dropped, barely hiding the twist of frustration on his face. There could be multiple reasons for a response like that, but it was much too early in their relationship for him to push and pry. 

“What’s your interest in HR?” Hakyeon asked him instead.

“Um,” Taekwoon said. “I’m... not sure what... you do.”

Ah.

“Was this transfer voluntary on your part?” Hakyeon asked bluntly. Taekwoon looked up; it was hard to pin his expression, but there was a degree of guilt in it.

“I agreed,” he said. “They’ve been deciding where to send me.”

“’They’ve been’?” Hakyeon repeated.

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said. “When they’re—finished with me.”

Hakyeon pursed his lips; this was problematic language.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done so far?” Hakyeon suggested, but before Taekwoon could reply, there was a voice from the main office.

“Hyukkie!” someone said brightly. “Wow, real work today? Good job!” 

Hakyeon sighed.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said to Taekwoon before opening the door and looking into the main room. Sure enough, Lee Jaehwan was in his office, patting Sanghyuk warmly on the shoulder; Sanghyuk had turned in his chair to face Jaehwan, smiling.

“Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said. “What do you need?”

“Are you busy?” Jaehwan said. “Sorry, I can come back later—”

“I’ll be busy later too,” Hakyeon said, “Might as well interrupt now. What’s up?”

“Eric invited me to a conference next week, but I’m supposed to ask you if I’m allowed to go,” Jaehwan explained in a bright chirp. Hakyeon sighed. Jaehwan was currently on very unofficial probation and grounded after he accidentally triggered a merger by inviting the president of another company to ‘join the party down at BIGS HQ’. The merger had been a huge success for them, but that didn’t really change the fact that Jaehwan was not in a position to be instigating them.

Partly because no one was entirely sure what Jaehwan’s job _was_.

“Is it an international conference, or regional?” Hakyeon asked.

“International, that’s why Eric is going,” Jaehwan informed him. “He’s translating again. Please can I go? I won’t do any business this time, I swear.”

“Pinky promise me,” Hakyeon said very seriously. Jaehwan immediately came over to shake his pinky and press their thumbs together.

“I will do zero work at the conference,” Jaehwan said. “Not even a second.”

“Good,” Hakyeon said. “Now shoo, I have things to do.”

“Thanks Hyung!” Jaehwan said brightly; on his way past Sanghyuk, he patted him on the back. “Later Hyukkie, have fun being productive!” Sanghyuk waved at him as he left the room, a soft smile on his face.

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon said. “Do not.”

“What?” Sanghyuk asked, turning to look at Hakyeon and blinking innocently. “Don’t what?”

“You know what,” Hakyeon said firmly. “I won’t tell you again.” Sanghyuk hunched down in his chair, turning back to the resumes with a guilty face. Honestly, it was ridiculous how many people liked Jaehwan sometimes; sure, he was basically sunshine in a human body, but it was amazing how many _professionals_ forgot themselves just to have a fun weekend hanging out with Jaehwan.

Also, Jaehwan kept trying to charge all-night _noraebang_ to Accounts and sometimes people from Discretionary Spending came to his office to cry about it.

Hakyeon went back to the smaller room with Taekwoon, smiling.

“Sorry,” he said. “Where were we?”

Cha Hakyeon had the patience of a saint. Over the course of just _one day_ , eleven people showed up to his office; three of them came back more than once, and one woman stepped into the office and simply burst into hysterical tears. He whipped a tissue box out of thin air and guided her into the smaller room as she hiccupped without a drop of judgement on his face. Taekwoon stopped being sympathetic about three people in, but Hakyeon looked up from his  
desk with a smile every single time.

Well, okay, when Jaehwan came by, the smile got a bit strained, but he seemed to only do things that would make Hakyeon’s life harder. Sanghyuk was always happy to see him. 

Sanghyuk remained somewhat awkward with Taekwoon all day, but he did relax slightly when Hakyeon told him to teach Taekwoon how to sort resumes. Sanghyuk seemed to think Taekwoon might be offended to be watched over by a mere intern, but this was the first useful thing he’d been able to do at the company so far. In between visitors, Hakyeon would join them and sort, chattering in a friendly manner regardless of whether they answered him or not. 

Around four in the afternoon, a woman showed up for an interview; Hakyeon greeted her politely and directed her to the side room, then waved at Taekwoon.

“You’re sitting in,” he said before handing Taekwoon a small note pad and pen. “Take notes.” Taekwoon nodded, following him in. They settled, Hakyeon serving coffee and making small talk until it was time for business.

Hakyeon asked a lot of questions Taekwoon had never heard before; he asked about her experience, of course, but also about her passion and how this position would contribute to her goals. He asked her what she would have changed about her last position, if anything, and about what kind of management style she preferred. The woman answered almost everything smoothly, smiling.

“Jung-ssi,” Hakyeon said suddenly, “Do you have any questions for Kwon-ssi?”

“Um,” Taekwoon said, wracking his brain for anything Hakyeon might not have covered. All he could come up with were social interaction questions, so he asked, “Do you have any kids?”

“Do _not_ answer that,” Hakyeon said sharply, holding out a hand to stop Kwon-ssi before she could speak. “Jung-ssi, a word?”

He stood up and jerked his head towards the door; unsure what was going on, Taekwoon followed him and let the door close behind him. Hakyeon rounded on him immediately.

“You _cannot_ ask about their personal lives,” he said, scolding. “One, it’s rude, two, it’s _illegal_. If you talk about their personal lives and don’t hire them, it can be misconstrued as discriminatory hiring and we would be in hot water with the labor office. Whether or not she has kids, is married, drives or takes public transit, religion, politics, smoker or non-smoker—those have nothing to do with her ability to do her job effectively and we _cannot ask her those questions_ because it’s _against the law._ ”

Taekwoon hunched down guiltily.

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his head. “I didn’t know.”

“How did you not know?” Hakyeon demanded. “They transferred you here!”

“They’ve transferred me ten times so far,” Taekwoon informed him defensively. “Everywhere I go, nobody tells me or teaches me anything, so I just stay incompetent. Then they shove me on somebody else.”

“Ten times?!” Hakyeon said indignantly. “Why would they not train you?!”

“They don’t even talk to me unless they have to,” Taekwoon snapped, the frustration of the past two weeks coming to the surface.

“Why wouldn’t they—”

“Because my dad is the CEO,” Taekwoon said, frustration building into anger. “As if that matters. My dad isn’t like that, he wouldn’t—”

“He would never expect special treatment for you,” Hakyeon interrupted softly. 

“No!” Taekwoon said. “I’m supposed to be—I don’t know, making friends or something. Learning. Not babysat.”

Hakyeon a hand on Taekwoon’s elbow; he wasn’t sure when he’d crossed his arms in front of his chest so tightly, but that single touch relaxed him just a little. He looked up cautiously and saw Hakyeon’s expression: equal parts warmth and apology, with a healthy dose of sympathy.

“I assumed you’d been briefed, but I understand that hasn’t been the case,” he said softly. “I apologize for coming at you like that.”

“You didn’t know,” Taekwoon mumbled, feeling the need to defend Hakyeon against himself for some reason.

“Okay, let’s—let’s start again, okay?” Hakyeon said. “We’ll go back and you can ask a different question.”

“I don’t know what to ask,” Taekwoon said, fearing he might cause them legal problems again.

“Was there anything about her _professional_ life you were curious about? Something she mentioned, but you’d like to hear more about?”

“...She’s interviewing for PR, right?” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon nodded encouragingly, hand still on Taekwoon’s arm. “We’re an international company; she needs at least some cross-cultural communication probably.” He paused, adding hesitantly, “Right?”

Hakyeon smiled at him warmly and Taekwoon felt himself flushing.

“That’s an excellent question,” he said. “Let’s go ask her, okay?”

Taekwoon nodded and they went back; once they’d settled, Hakyeon turned his friendliest face on Kwon-ssi.

“Sorry for the wait,” Hakyeon said. “We had to discuss something for a moment. I believe Jung-ssi has another question for you. Right, Jung-ssi?”

“Right,” Taekwoon said, sitting up straighter. He felt extremely nervous for some reason and glanced at Hakyeon; he was comforted by the same warm smile as before. “I was just... wondering what kind of cross-cultural work you’ve done. We—we work globally so... that would help...”

As Kwon-ssi gave her answer, Taekwoon glanced at Hakyeon once more; he was beaming proudly. Taekwoon flushed again, but he was glad Hakyeon was pleased this time.

Hakyeon dismissed Taekwoon for the day promptly at six since he hadn’t submitted a request for overtime and payroll was already stressed out over Jaehwan. He, however, had submitted one for the entire week; while he fully supported the deputy director of PR taking a sabbatical to care for his father, filling his shoes in the meantime had proven extremely difficult and Jaehwan could only sub for so long.

Sanghyuk and Taekwoon had helped a lot by sorting through the applications; he was still responsible for the stack that cleared the first screening though, so he sat down with a cup of tea and loosened his tie, picking up the resume on the top. He was immediately interrupted by his office door bursting open.

“Hyung, _please_ tell me you didn’t open an email with the subject line of, ‘My husband doesn’t know I’m contacting you’,” Hongbin said, breathing hard.

Hakyeon stared at him.

“Did you run here?” Hakyeon asked.

“ _Answer the question please,_ ” Hongbin demanded.

“No, I haven’t,” Hakyeon said. “Why?”

“Because it contains a trojan that slowly devours your memory until the OS doesn’t have enough to run and the _entire machine_ needs to be _completely reformatted_ and _no one in this company_ backs up their data anywhere ever,” Hongbin snapped. He threw himself down in the chair on the other side of the desk, collapsing face down.

“Long day?” Hakyeon said.

“We’re up to eleven,” Hongbin said without lifting his head. “It turns out most of acquisitions are on the market for extramarital affairs.”

“Don’t you have everything set up to back up automatically?”

“I do,” Hongbin said, “But the only way I could do it without literally taking everyone offline for several days and without crashing the servers entirely was incremental backups and those are on rotation.”

“I’m not entirely following, but I’m very sympathetic,” Hakyeon informed him.

“Why is everyone in this company stupid?” Hongbin asked. “Why is ‘don’t open weird emails’ so hard to understand?”

Hongbin had risen through the company ranks of the IT department quickly; he started as an intern from the same school as Sanghyuk, but he was hired directly out of school and been promoted every year since. Now he was pretty much the go-to for any tech-related problems in the entire building. He did software, hardware, and emergency house calls for all directors. He was, in Hakyeon’s opinion, something of an unsung hero.

“They’re not stupid, they’re old,” Hakyeon pointed out. “We’ve had computers for most of our lives, it’s easier.”

“Age does not in any way explain why so many of these people are replying to Nigerian princes and clicking links for single babes in their area,” Hongbin shot back. “I don’t care how old you are, that’s just straight-up stupidity.”

“That’s... a fair point.”

“Are you pulling overtime _again_?” Hongbin asked, frowning. “What is this, the third day this week?”

“It’s Minjun’s spot in PR,” Hakyeon sighed. “He’s so good, finding someone who can do it all half as well is—proving difficult.”

“Isn’t Jaehwan doing it just fine?” Hongbin said, cocking his head.

“He’s—of course he is, it’s Jaehwan,” Hakyeon sighed. “But he can’t do it indefinitely, payroll will have a stroke trying to work out his salary.”

“He’s salaried?” Hongbin said, surprised. “I thought he was a contractor.”

“No,” Hakyeon said. “He’s definitely salaried.”

“...as _what_?”

“Your guess is as good as mine at this point,” Hakyeon said. “Anyway, the sooner I can get someone in that spot, the better.”

“How many applicants?” Hongbin asked, poking at Hakyeon’s stack.

“Two-hundred and forty-three,” Hakyeon said. “Hyukkie and Taekwoon helped me weed out the worst today, so we’re down to one-hundred and fourteen.”

“Taekwoon?” Hongbin said. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, sorry—Jung Taekwoon. He’s CEO Jung’s son,” Hakyeon explained. Hongbin pulled a face; Hakyeon hurriedly added, “No, he’s very sweet, really.”

“Sounds like a self-entitled—”

“He’s not,” Hakyeon assured him. “Poor kid has been bouncing through departments because everyone’s scared to interact with him.”

“Still,” Hongbin said with a sniff. “Probably went through life with a silver spoon in his mouth.”

“Do you _really_ think that’s how Jung-ssi would raise his children?” Hakyeon said dryly. “He drives a nine-year-old silver hybrid Hyundae and eats the lunch his wife packs him in the cafeteria. He only got a smart phone _two years ago_ and apparently it was purely to take pictures of his grandson.”

“That’s... true,” Hongbin admitted begrudgingly, “I helped him set up his iCloud.” He looked at the stack of resumes again, then back at Hakyeon. “Can I help you with this somehow?”

Hakyeon smiled at him but shook his head.

“Thanks, but no,” he said. “I’m actually sorting for interviews now.”

“Well, don’t stay here _too_ long Mr. Director of Human Resources,” Hongbin said, standing up. “I’ve got two more laptops to purge of immorality-fueled stupidity, then I’m out.”

“Have fun,” Hakyeon said. “Try not to lose your mind, you’d be impossible to replace.”

“Not even Jaehwan?”

“Absolutely not Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said firmly. “Every time he touches a computer, the wallpaper gets changed to puppies almost instantly.”

“Mine still is puppies, actually,” Hongbin admitted.

“So is mine,” Hakyeon said. “They’re _puppies._ ”

Hongbin laughed and left, significantly cheerier than when he arrived. That was all Hakyeon could really ask for; if everyone that walked in the room with a frown, tears, or just frustration, left with their shoulders just a little bit lighter, he considered it a job well done.

At the coffee shop before work, Taekwoon stared at the menu with trepidation. He knew his order—even the staff knew his order and tended to start making it when he walked in the shop. Today, however, he wasn’t just ordering for himself; he’d spent most of yesterday feeling unusually comfortable at the office with Hakyeon and Sanghyuk, plus occasionally Jaehwan. It was easily the most relaxed and the most useful he’d felt since this entire project started. Hakyeon wasn’t treating him with kid gloves, he was teaching him things. Taekwoon just wanted to thank him somehow.

He really wished he’d thought to ask what Hakyeon liked to drink, though. There were a lot of choices for coffee and some people were more particular than others; he tried to remember if he’d even seen Hakyeon drinking. He had a mug; it was one of those paint-it-yourself ones people gave as gifts. When he’d asked about it, Hakyeon smiled and told him it had been a gift from his nephew. Somehow, Taekwoon had failed to ask what was _in_ the mug.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought maybe Hakyeon actually didn’t drink coffee; he had a machine in the side room, but he’d only used it to serve others, not himself. If he didn’t drink coffee, what _did_ he drink?

“Good morning!” the barista chirped at him when he got to the counter. “The usual?”

“Yeah, but also... can you recommend something?” Taekwoon asked her hesitantly. 

“Sure,” she said. “What are you looking for?”

“My coworker doesn’t drink coffee, but I don’t know what he does like,” Taekwoon explained sheepishly. “What else is there?”

“Well, we’ve got a lot of seasonal teas right now,” the barista informed him, pointing at the menu on the counter. “These ones are black teas, so they have caffeine, and the herbal teas generally don’t. We also have milk tea and chai.”

“What’s the most popular tea?” Taekwoon asked, running his finger down the list.

“Right now... the rose lemonade is pretty popular,” she explained. “It’s rosehips, hibiscus, lemon, and a tiny bit of apple. It’s kind of on the sweet side and it smells incredible.”

“That sounds great,” he said. “Can I get one of those? And two more lattes?”

“Can do! Did you want a pastry with that?” she asked, gesturing at the glass display container. Taekwoon bit his lip; he was extremely partial to pastries. Well, okay, he was partial to food in general.

“The apple scones look good,” he said. “Can I have those?”

“Yep! I’m assuming you want all of this takeout?”

“Yes please,” he said. “I guess I’ll need a tray?”

“Highly recommended that you get a tray unless you are secretly a juggler,” she joked. Taekwoon smiled; he liked this shop, the staff were always so friendly.

Once he collected his take-out tray and bag of scones, he headed straight to the office; he was about ten minutes early when he got to Hakyeon’s door, and realized that with his hands full, he couldn’t really knock. Hopefully Hakyeon wasn’t doing anything that couldn’t be mildly interrupted. He pushed the door open with his hip, relieved to see Hakyeon was just reading something on the computer. Taekwoon carefully set the tray down on his desk.

“Good morning!” Hakyeon chirped as brightly as the barista. He looked at the tray with surprise. “Did you bring us coffee?” Hakyeon asked.

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said, before abruptly realizing that might actually be a problem. “Sorry, is that... a violation of something?”

“Is it a bribe?” Hakyeon asked.

“No?” Taekwoon asked. “I just... thought people might like some...”

“Then it’s not a violation,” Hakyeon beamed at him. “Thank you!” He reached for a random cup, but Taekwoon pulled out of reach, turned them around and looked at the barista scrawl before pulling one out and handing it to him directly. Hakyeon blinked at him.

“It’s tea,” Taekwoon explained. 

“How did you—”

“You have a coffee machine, but you never used it for yourself,” Taekwoon explained, turning red. “So... you probably don’t like coffee that much. Am I right?”

“You are correct,” Hakyeon said with a smile. “I don’t mind it, but it’s not my go-to. Oh, this smells _amazing_ , what is it?”

“Uh,” Taekwoon said, throwing his mind back. “Rose lemonade? It’s got rose, lemon, apple... a flower too, I think.”

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said sincerely. “Are the other three for you?”

“One of them is,” Taekwoon said. “The other two are for... um. Sanghyuk. And Jaehwan. If he comes.” Why was he _stammering_ so much? Why did Hakyeon’s smile make him feel so nervous?

“Careful,” Hakyeon snorted. “Spoil Jaehwan once and you’ll have a friend for life.”

“He seems really familiar for some reason,” Taekwoon said, sitting down across from him like they’d been the day before. He didn’t see the stack of resumes anywhere; there had certainly been a pile still when he left. Instead, he noticed all the small little personalized things around Hakyeon’s desk: photos, presumably of his family; knick-knacks stacked cutely around his monitor; a plethora of post-it tabs that were shaped like animals for some reason; pens of all colors; a box of tissues. 

When he looked up, Hakyeon was staring at him with an amused smile on his face; he took a slow sip of his tea without breaking eye contact.

“Find anything interesting?” he asked dryly. Taekwoon flushed. Before he could explain himself, the door burst open; Sanghyuk stumbled in, breathing hard, and braced his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Hyung,” Sanghyuk gasped. “There’s a fight happening in the parking garage!”

“There’s a _what?!_ ” Hakyeon squeaked, leaping up from his desk. “Why?! Is security there?!”

“Security is part of the fight!” Sanghyuk said. “It’s like three of them and then that asshole from Marketing, the guy with the Porche.”

“Oh god, not him,” Hakyeon said, making for the door. “Youngwoo is already _on_ probation, why in heaven’s name would he _pick a fight?_ ”

“It sounds like he dinged the car and started yelling about it,” Sanghyuk said. “Are you coming?”

“Of course I am,” Hakyeon said, removing his jacket and throwing it over the back of a chair. “Hopefully he doesn’t punch anyone this time.”

“Should I come?” Taekwoon asked, uncertain. Hakyeon was already halfway out the door, but Sanghyuk looked back.

“You should,” Sanghyuk said. “You’ll get to see him in action probably!”

Taekwoon didn’t know what that meant, but he jogged after the pair immediately; Hakyeon didn’t even bother with the elevator and just went down the stairs with remarkable speed for someone wearing most of a suit. Sanghyuk was filling him in as best as he could while they moved; Hakyeon was rushing, but he was also calm. When they got to the parking garage, they almost didn’t even need Sanghyuk to guide them: the shouting could be heard from quite a distance.

Kim Youngwoo was a lot younger than Taekwoon had expected; he was probably less than ten years older. His face was red as he yelled in the face of one guard, and both arms were restrained by two other guards. He kept jerking on his arms in a way that made Taekwoon think he legitimately would be swinging a fist at this point if he could. There was a cluster of people around, some looking nervous and others looking with great interest. Hakyeon stopped running; he tapped people on the shoulder, one by one, jerking his thumb backwards wordlessly. The crowed parted for him easily.

Hakyeon got to the front, crossed his arms, and sighed heavily. The security guards all looked up with such speed it was as if he’d shouted. They fell into immediate silence, but Youngwoo was still frothing when Hakyeon walked up to him.

“Let him go,” Hakyeon said quietly.

“He’s going to smash you,” one of the guards said in alarm. Hakyeon shook his head.

“He knows better,” he said. The guards dropped their hold and stepped back, leaving Hakyeon and Youngwoo alone in the center.

“We talked about this, Kim-ssi,” Hakyeon said softly. “You made me a promise we wouldn’t end up like this again.”

“He fucked up my car!” Youngwoo barked. “Thanks to you and your probation, I can’t even afford to get it fixed!”

“Your probation was my decision, but let’s not pretend it’s my fault,” Hakyeon replied, still calm.

“You made me agree to a lot of bullshit,” Youngwoo protested.

“I could have fired you,” Hakyeon pointed out. “I didn’t.” His tone was soft, but also serious. Taekwoon got the impression Hakyeon was reminding him, rather than informing him.

To Taekwoon’s astonishment, Youngwoo seemed to almost _deflate._ The anger blew out of him and he dropped his head; Hakyeon approached him (far sooner than Taekwoon would have thought was safe) and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Alright folks, move along,” Sanghyuk called, shooing the crowd away. Now that the threat of violence seemed over, people decided it was time to get back to their actual jobs; Taekwoon stayed, eyes and ears glued on Hakyeon.

“I thought counseling was going well,” Hakyeon said. “Did something happen?”

“My guy retired and his replacement was shit,” Youngwoo said.

“You should have told me,” Hakyeon said. “You know I would have—”

“I don’t need your help for every little fucking thing, you know,” Youngwoo snapped.

“I’m trying to _teach you something_ ,” Hakyeon snapped back. “By continuing to make rash, impulsive and childish decisions, you’ve put this company in a position where we consider you a liability. You have done nothing but prove that point, and this? Youngwoo, this was it. You only had once chance with probation. That’s over now.”

Youngwoo finally looked as devastated as Taekwoon would have expected him to.

“I really fucked this up, huh,” he said simply.

“You did,” Hakyeon agreed. “I hope you understand how much you need to change, now.”

Youngwoo fell into silence; Hakyeon patted him on the shoulder, then withdrew.

“Please collect your things and turn in your badge at the front desk,” Hakyeon said. “I’ll contact you later about the terms of your severance.”

Hakyeon walked away, heading back towards Sanghyuk and Taekwoon with a very serious, tired expression. When he reached them, he forced a strained smile on his face and gestured back towards the main building.

“You two go ahead,” he said. “I’ll catch up.”

“Are you staying?” Taekwoon asked immediately, still someone unwilling to leave Hakyeon alone with a guy as volatile as Youngwoo.

“No, there’s—something I have to do,” Hakyeon said. “Go. The coffee you brought will be cold.”

“I sure would have liked a coffee,” Sanghyuk muttered darkly.

“He brought you one too,” Hakyeon informed him with a smile. “Why don’t you give it a taste?”

Sanghyuk looked at Taekwoon in surprise, then grinned at him. Taekwoon had the overwhelming urge to pat him on the head, which he barely held back; he wasn’t sure where the desire came from, except that Sanghyuk had something puppy-like about him. The kid took off at a jog and Taekwoon followed, but just before they entered the stairwell, Taekwoon looked back.

Hakyeon’s back was to them, but Taekwoon could see he’d wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

As Sanghyuk led them back to the office, Taekwoon couldn’t quite shake the image from his mind.

Kim Youngwoo had been a risk from day one, really. Hakyeon had known that when he was doing the first round of staff evaluations after taking over the position; he was charismatic and witty, but confrontational and hot-headed. He had a reputation for getting into arguments with people and being stubborn, as well as refusing to take responsibility for his decisions that didn’t work out. His managers were pretty split on him; some thought he was brilliant, others considered him a liability.

Then he got very drunk at a conference and got in a fight with someone in the hotel bar. 

The next year was a series of events and official warnings; as soon as the warning periods ended, another incident would occur, putting him perpetually on Hakyeon’s watchlist. After a DUI, Hakyeon had drawn the line: Youngwoo could agree to go to counseling for both his drinking problem and his anger management, with a one-year probation period, or he was out.

He really had hoped Youngwoo would get his act together, but it seemed like that wasn’t ultimately the case.

Without question, the part of his job Hakyeon hated the most was firing people. He knew it was his responsibility, and he’d taken the position knowing that, but it didn’t really make him feel like any less of an asshole when he had to do it. There were a few cases like Youngwoo where the person in question had a long history of poor decisions, but there were just as many if not more cases where personalities clashed, or mistakes were made unintentionally. He tried, as the director, to give those people second chances. Change their manager, or departments; a week of remedial training, maybe a mentorship—something to help them get out of the hole before it was too late.

But sometimes it really was too late, and all he could do was sign the paperwork and promise a fair reference. 

Afterwards, he tended to go to the stairwell for a while. It was quiet and people rarely went there; he never locked the door on his office, so if he wanted to go without being interrupted for a while, it was easier to leave. He could sit on the stairs and think about what he would have done differently, how he would handle it the next time, how to get through the rest of the day with a smile on his face until he could get home and beat himself up over it properly.

Hakyeon was great at teaching other people healthy coping, but he was not exactly great at walking the walk, so to speak.

After a good twenty-minute break, Hakyeon pulled himself together and accepted that Youngwoo was an extreme case and there was really nothing he could have done to prevent this outcome. He sighed, rolled his shoulders, and headed back to his office.

He opened the door to see Sanghyuk and Taekwoon arm-wrestling on his desk. Jaehwan was sitting in Hakyeon’s chair behind the desk, acting as gleeful referee. Hakyeon stood in the doorway and cleared his throat pointedly; Sanghyuk snapped to attention, but Taekwoon was a bit slower to notice and only seemed to put together that maybe he was wasting company time when Sanghyuk looked increasingly guilty.

“I wasn’t even gone for half an hour,” Hakyeon said.

“It’s okay, I covered for you,” Jaehwan chirped. Hakyeon stared at him in alarm.

“Oh god,” he said. “You didn’t do anything, did you? Did you hire someone? Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t _hire_ someone without you, Hyung, come on,” Jaehwan pouted. “Have a little more faith in me. I just approved some time off!”

“You _what_?!”

“Director Hyuna’s taking June 18th off to go to the dentist all day in Jamsil Stadium,” he explained. “You know that girl group she really likes?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said flatly, because honestly, everyone knew.

“Turns out they’re all dentists!” Jaehwan said, throwing his hands up excitedly. “Who knew?”

Hakyeon sighed.

“Get out of my chair,” he said, making shooing motions. “You’re not qualified to be me.”

“I’m not qualified for most of the things I do, but it always works out, so I don’t really see much of a problem there,” Jaehwan informed him as he vacated Hakyeon’s chair. Instead of pulling up one of his own, he decided to push Sanghyuk down and then lean on him. Sanghyuk didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, although Taekwoon looked startled.

“How was your coffee?” Hakyeon asked as he settled back in. 

“Great!” Jaehwan said. “I heard you got bougie hot leaf water.”

“For the hundredth time, it’s _herbal tea_ , Jaehwan.”

“Yeah, bougie hot leaf water,” Jaehwan said. “That’s what I said.”

Hakyeon sighed; it was just a shame he wouldn’t really get to enjoy it now that it was definitely cold. He looked around his desk for the cup, but it was curiously absent. Had they thrown it away?

He met eyes with Taekwoon; without a word, he pushed a fancy sealed drink tumbler across the table. It was the kind that retained temperature, either heat or cold; Hakyeon didn’t own one, so he had no idea where it could have come from. He accepted it, looking at Taekwoon with confusion.

“I borrowed it from Logistics,” Taekwoon said.

“He stole it,” Sanghyuk said.

“No, he borrowed it,” Jaehwan said. “He just borrowed it without permission or intent to return.”

“Neither of you are helping me at all,” Taekwoon said with just a hint of a whine. Hakyeon covered his smile with one hand, making a mental note to return the tumbler later. Maybe he should put a post-it on it to remember.

“I also brought—um,” Taekwoon said, hunching down nervously. “...They’re a little crushed, but they should be okay?” He then reached into his bag, which he’d pushed under his chair, and pulled out a paper bag; like magic, scones appeared.

Sanghyuk was gaping at him, which only seemed to make Taekwoon freeze up more.

“Bad idea?” he said very softly, before lowering the bag. “Bad idea. Sorry.”

“It’s not a bad idea at all,” Hakyeon said gently. “It’s very sweet, thank you.” Taekwoon looked up at him, surprised, and slightly pink. Hakyeon had to fight the urge to pat his cheek.

“You brought us coffee _and_ food?!” Sanghyuk squawked. Taekwoon just nodded at him. When he failed to explain himself, Sanghyuk continued, “ _Why_?!”

Taekwoon bit his lip, blushing adorably. Hakyeon internally smacked his own hand for even thinking it.

“The café has really nice scones,” he said quietly. Sanghyuk stared at him, waiting for more, but when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to elaborate any further, Sanghyuk just shrugged and took one from the bag, immediately handing it to Jaehwan, then a second for himself.

“Thanks, Hyung,” he said, tapping their scones together. “Cheers.”

The shy smile on Taekwoon’s face made the hell of the morning just fade away.

As soon as Jaehwan left (“I’m in reception today, hence the teddy bear tie!”) Hakyeon set him and Sanghyuk on a proofreading task; they’d each been given a stack of company memos, not yet sent, to check for errors. They’d come from a variety of departments, but as part of his ‘quest for internal harmony’ Hakyeon had requested all such emails be cleared by him first.

“People get very riled up and don’t always recognize how harsh they sound,” Hakyeon explained. “I can tone things down a bit.”

“So aside from spelling, we’re looking for rudeness?” Sanghyuk asked.

“If you like,” Hakyeon said. “Please notate those with a different colored pen, though.” Sanghyuk immediately set to work, his eyebrows knit as he scanned the page rapidly. Taekwoon began as well but was considerably slower about it; he’d never thought of himself as a slow reader, but Sanghyuk was parsing and notating at what felt like lightning speed.

Then the door blew open.

“ _Hyung_ ,” an extremely frazzled young man said, “Did you know?!”

“Know what, Hongbin?” Hakyeon asked him, looking not at all surprised by his forceful entrance.

“That accounting is full of _perverts_ ,” Hongbin said furiously. Despite his rage, he was a handsome man; Taekwoon noticed he was wearing his blazer over a nice sweater and jeans, rather than the suit of literally everyone else. It was mildly offensive to see someone getting away with a dress code violation _in front of HR._

“Oh dear,” Hakyeon said. “What did you find?”

“Porn,” Hongbin said, voice hollow. “So much porn. Barely hidden. I think they’re _sharing it_ because the same file was on four different machines.”

“Didn’t you put some sort of block on download—”

“I _did_ ,” Hongbin cut him off, coming up to Hakyeon’s desk. “Which means they _brought it in._ ”

“Why?” Sanghyuk asked, looking mildly disturbed.

“I don’t know and I don’t _want_ to know, but if I see one more I swear I’m going to lose it.”

Hakyeon gestured for Hongbin to pull up yet another chair; his desk was starting to look like a cluttered kitchen table. As soon as he sat down, Hongbin put his face on the wood surface and made a sound halfway between a snarl of fury and a moan of agony. Hakyeon reached across his desk to pat Hongbin on the head.

“There, there,” he said gently. “Did you keep track of who it was?”

Wordlessly, Hongbin pulled a note out of his pocket and slid it across the desk; Hakyeon picked it up and scanned the names quickly, pursing his lips. It was incredibly difficult for Taekwoon to focus on anything but Hakyeon’s mouth, for reasons he did not entirely understand.

“Shoot,” he said, lowering the paper with a sigh. “This is the third strike for most of them.”

“It gets worse,” Hongbin informed him glumly, still face-down. “The last guy has been sending dick pics to the new assistant. He set the emails to show read-receipts; she’s seen at least three.”

“Oh god, that poor woman,” Hakyeon said in horror. “What didn’t she come tell me?”

“Is it Mina?” Sanghyuk interrupted. 

“What—how did you—” Hongbin stammered.

“She didn’t tell me any specifics,” Sanghyuk said, raising his hands defensively. “She just said her manager was giving her a hard time and that she wasn’t really comfortable here yet. I told her to talk to you, Hyung, but she’s really new so I don’t know if she really believed me that you’d help.”

“Excellent,” Hakyeon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just great, exactly what we needed right now.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Hongbin said, looking up. “I know you—”

“What’s done is done,” Hakyeon interrupted him. “I’ll take care of this. Thank you both. I have to do some confidential stuff, so you’re going to have to find somewhere else to be, sorry.”

Hongbin nodded and collected himself; Sanghyuk grabbed the stack of memos and followed, patting Hongbin sympathetically on the shoulder. Taekwoon stood to go, but Hakyeon stopped him.

“Wait,” he said. “You should—you might want to hear this.”

“Why?” Taekwoon asked, sitting back down.

“Because harassment is pervasive and misogyny doesn’t help,” he said. “Whatever Mina’s been through is traumatic and needs to be dealt with gently.” Taekwoon opened his mouth to repeat his question, but Hakyeon raised a hand to shush him. “Your father built this company with very clear, very important values in mind. He himself wrote up harassment response policies years before other companies this size even considered it. He always said it was—”

“For my sisters,” Taekwoon filled in. “He wants the world to be safe for them. For all of us.”

“Precisely,” Hakyeon said. “That means we worry about Mina before anyone and anything else.”

He picked up his phone but set it on speaker and put a finger to his lips so Taekwoon would be quiet. It only rang once before a woman picked up.

“Hello?”

“Kang Mina?” Hakyeon said. “This is Cha Hakyeon, from HR.”

“Cha-ssi!” she squeaked, startled. “What—what can I help you with?”

“I’d like to speak with you privately as soon as possible,” he said. “Please come down to my office when you have some time today. You are not in any trouble whatsoever, don’t worry.”

“I’ll come right now,” she said quickly. “I—”

“Kang-ssi,” Hakyeon interrupted her softly, “Please bring anything... upsetting with you. I’d like to see it.”

“...Yes sir,” she said quietly. “Right away.”

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said, then waited for the click of the line going dead. He set the handset down and interlaced his fingers as he braced his elbows on his desk; his expression was serious, but not quite as dark as at the start of the day.

“So,” he said softly. “When she gets here, what do we do?”

Taekwoon blinked at Hakyeon; how was he supposed to know? He didn’t just not know the policies, he didn’t even fully understand what Human Resources did, really. Hakyeon _must_ have known this, but he was staring at Taewoon so expectantly.

Then he smiled, warm and encouraging, and Taekwoon felt himself straightening in his chair.

“She might be scared,” he said. “Nervous, obviously, but... she’s reporting her boss, right?”

“Indeed,” Hakyeon said. “How would you handle that?”

“Food,” Taekwoon said immediately. He was of the opinion that nearly every negative emotion could be lessened with food. “Do we have any scones left?”

“I think so,” Hakyeon said. “Good idea. What else?”

“Should—should we ask her questions?” he asked hesitantly. “Maybe she just wants to tell us herself?”

“She might,” Hakyeon said. “She’ll definitely need to be reassured that this won’t affect _her_ reputation in any way whatsoever, and that everything she says and shows us is utterly confidential. Hongbin helped us out a lot with that, actually.”

“He did?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said. “He collects the truly repugnant stuff he finds and makes sure we have a secondary source—him. If Mina doesn’t feel safe or comfortable sharing the situation with us, we can still hold the culprit responsible without incriminating her. She didn’t show us anything—Hongbin found it.”

Taekwoon nodded, trying to think. He was struck suddenly with an image of his sisters, the one closest to him in age, anxious over the results of an exam.

“Do you have a blanket?” Taekwoon asked.

“A blanket?” Hakyeon echoed, surprised.

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said. “For her lap. She’ll be cold. Plus—plus blankets are just nice.” He sunk into his seat a bit, wondering if maybe his sister was just kind of weird when uncomfortable.

“I... do have one,” Hakyeon said. “I’ve never offered it to someone, but that might be comforting. Or strange, coming from the person who invited her down here.”

“I can offer it,” Taekwoon said simply. “I’m new and not in her chain of command in any way, so I’m kind of neutral here, right?”

“I suppose,” Hakyeon said, still sounding a touch skeptical. Before he could express his concerns further, there was a knock on the door; Hakyeon reached under his desk and pulled out an afghan, tossing it to Taekwoon as he stood up. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal a young woman with a tight, nervous smile on her face.

“Cha-ssi?” she said. “You—you asked to see me?”

“Yes, thank you, please come in and have a seat,” Hakyeon said warmly, gesturing her to the chair Taekwoon had been sitting in. “Would you care for something to drink? I’ve got coffee or—”

“Nothing, thanks,” she said. Her phone was clenched tightly in her hands; Taekwoon stepped forward, holding the blanket out.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said, “He’s nice.” Mina blinked at him, taken aback, but she held out her hands for the blanket; Taekwoon gave it to her and watched her set it across her legs. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the tension in her face seemed to relax just a bit. 

“...Thank you,” Mina said quietly. Hakyeon gestured for Taekwoon to sit in a chair pulled to the side of the desk.

“Thank you again for coming down on such short notice,” he said, smiling warmly. “I’m sure you must be busy.”

“Is there something you wanted from me?” Mina asked, fingers clenched tightly around her phone again.

“The IT department came to me with some... frankly disturbing information that they think may have involved you,” he said softly. “In particular there was concern about emails being sent from your supervisor.”

Mina stayed silent, her mouth a taut line.

“He will be punished, severely, regardless of any further information,” Hakyeon informed her. “The evidence given to me by IT is more than enough to warrant it. However, knowing that you had some involvement in this, I wanted to check in with you.”

Mina’s head jerked up, alarmed.

“I didn’t—he wasn’t—they just—” she stammered, but Hakyeon interrupted her.

“Are you okay?” he asked simply. “I didn’t see everything, but I saw enough to know you’ve been dealing with something disgusting, and I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“You—what?”

“Harassment is taken very seriously at this company,” Hakyeon told her. “If there’s anything you would like to show me or tell me, I am absolutely here to listen and help in whatever way I can. You are not the only person to have gone through this; it’s difficult and humiliating. That’s perfectly understandable. I wouldn’t expect you to be okay, under these circumstances.”

Mina was silent for a moment, before lifting her phone with shaking hands.

“I—I saved the messages,” she said quietly. “I was going to delete them, but I thought—maybe they would be useful someday.”

“Would you like to show me?” Hakyeon asked. “You absolutely do not have to if you’d rather not.”

“I—I do,” she said. “At first it was just the... flirting, I guess, and then it just got so much worse.”

Hakyeon’s eyebrows snapped together.

“There’s more than the pictures?” he asked. Mina nodded.

“Here,” she said, unlocking her phone; she opened up the messages and handed them over to Hakyeon. “I thought I was kind of—overreacting, I guess, but...”

“This is inappropriate from the start,” Hakyeon said, still frowning as he read. “May I scroll down?”

“Yes,” Mina said. “Please—please do.”

Taekwoon couldn’t see the messages, but as Hakyeon’s expression got darker and darker, he could take a guess as to the content.

“He started sending you explicit messages... two months ago?” Hakyeon asked without looking up.

“Yeah,” she said, looking very tired. “He... he also makes comments whenever I have to be alone with him, for a meeting or in the break room. I should just—yell at him, or leave, but I’ve just been standing there, frozen.”

“You’re scared,” Taekwoon said softly from the side. “That’s a pretty normal reaction.”

Hakyeon glanced at him, a small smile tucked in the corner of his mouth.

“Correct,” Hakyeon said. “Your reaction doesn’t excuse his behavior in the slightest. He—oh no, here we go.”

“A picture?” Mina said glumly. Hakyeon nodded, and as his expression changed from concern into something else, Taekwoon finally pinned it: anger.

“One, two, three, four, five—six. He sent six?”

“Those are sent to my phone,” she said. “He sent four to my work address. I deleted them right away—I thought if anyone found them in my inbox, they’d misunderstand, so—I just deleted them.”

“I understand,” Hakyeon said, nodding sympathetically. “I do hope you know that you can come to me with any of these issues in the future. Any issues at all, really. This particular problem will end promptly.”

“Please don’t,” she said. “They’ll know I told you, they’ll—”

“They’ll be informed that IT blew the whistle,” Hakyeon said gently. “Not you. IT and HR.”

“...Why did he do this?” Mina asked quietly. “Why—why did he pick me? I didn’t ask for anything.”

“Honestly? Because you’re young and female and new,” Hakyeon said. “It’s an incredibly sad and infuriating fact that he saw you as an easy target. It’s not your fault in the slightest, and I’m terribly sorry this happened to you.”

“So... what should I do?” she asked, staring at the desk top.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like you to send me screencaps of this,” he said. “Then I can recommend a counselor for you to talk to.”

Taekwoon quickly grabbed a paper plate from the stack Hakyeon had grabbed from the break room that morning and put a scone on it, placing it on the desk in front of her. She looked at it, then back up at Taekwoon. 

“It’s a scone,” he said quietly, looking down shyly. “If you want it.” There were very few situations which Taekwoon felt couldn’t be improved with food; he sat back down immediately, pointedly aware of the fact that just by being tall and quiet, he could be intimidating. Mina blinked, then gave him a very small smile.

“I... I really wish I’d come to you earlier,” she confessed to Hakyeon. He smiled at her warmly, and Taekwoon felt himself smiling reflexively in response.

“You came now,” he told her. “That’s the first step. Next time, you won’t hesitate.”

She nodded, and for the first time since she arrived, she looked strong. The next hour was spent going over the order of events, collecting the evidence, and Hakyeon’s unrelenting sincere praise. Mina’s strength seemed to be coming back with each passing second; by the time they’d finished, her back was straight and her expression was firm. She passed the afghan back to Taekwoon with a smile before leaving.

“Now what?” Taekwoon asked, turning to Hakyeon when the door clicked shut. His smile turned weary, and he sat down with a sigh.

“Now, I get everything ready,” he said.

“For what?”

“For terminating him,” Hakyeon said. “He’s been with the company for a fairly long time; this is more than enough reason to tell him to clean out his desk tonight, but as a matter of due diligence, I have to put together a complete case and prepare a statement as to why he should be denied severance benefits for the board to review.”

“They don’t just... believe you?” Taekwoon asked, sitting down again as well. Hakyeon pinched the bridge of his nose; did he have a headache? Why did he look so _tired_ suddenly? Sure, Taekwoon felt pretty drained, but Hakyeon had seemed fine.

“They usually do,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I can just stop doing my job, though.”

Taekwoon frowned; something occurred to him quite abruptly and he leaned across the desk.

“Don’t you have an assistant or anything?” he asked. “You’re a director, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Hakyeon confirmed, “but I can handle everything on my own, so there’s no need to hire an assistant.” He seemed oddly dismissive of the idea, but Taekwoon wasn’t so easily convinced; after a day of sorting resumes and memos, he had a hard time believing that Hakyeon could have done the work of three people on his own in any reasonable time frame, unless he pulled a lot of overtime hours—which Taekwoon realized he’d already somewhat alluded to.

“You should get someone,” Taekwoon said. “You do too much.”

“I don’t have time to hire anybody,” Hakyeon said immediately.

“You have time to hire for other people,” Taekwoon insisted stubbornly.

“I _only_ have time to hire for other people,” Hakyeon shot back, equally stubborn. Taekwoon opened his mouth to complain some more, but Hakyeon held up one hand. “Enough. Sanghyuk has been useful, as have you; I don’t need more. I’m fine.”

“I could—”

“You’re going to go home,” Hakyeon informed him. “It’s ten to six. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you staying late again?” Taekwoon asked.

“Denial of severance packets don’t write themselves,” Hakyeon said with a sigh, turning to his computer. The blue-tinted light washed him out in a cold, sickly looking color; it turned his usual warm gold into an ashy shade and highlighted the visible exhaustion on his face.

It bothered Taekwoon.

He got the impression that discussion was over, however, so he stood up and grabbed his jacket and bag without further comment.

“See you tomorrow, then,” he said. Hakyeon didn’t look away from the computer, but he waved one hand. 

Taekwoon was halfway home before he realized he had somehow left his phone behind at the office; while it wasn’t strictly necessary for living, it was his alarm in the morning, so he decided to go back for it. He got all the way to Hakyeon’s office and opened the door, forgetting to knock—

Hakyeon was asleep. The computer screen was still glowing, but Hakyeon’s face was pillowed on his crossed arms; his phone was on the desk in front of him, with an alarm set to go off in twenty minutes. Taekwoon felt an odd mixture of irritated and slightly warm; without making any noise, he picked up the afghan from earlier that day and went behind Hakyeon’s desk to drape it across his shoulders.

“For someone so good at taking care of people,” he informed Hakyeon’s sleeping form, “you’re pretty bad at taking care of yourself.”

He couldn’t quite stop himself from smoothing a hand across Hakyeon’s hair before snapping it back in alarm; what was he doing?! Why did he do that!?

Taekwoon grabbed his phone off the chair where he’d left it, then quickly made his escape before Hakyeon woke up and asked him why he was there.

Almost as soon as the workday officially started, someone knocked on Hakyeon’s door; he’d barely put his briefcase down, but there was only one person who still thought he should _knock_ before coming in.

“It’s open,” Hakyeon called out. The door opened just enough for a head to peek through.

“Hyung?” Wonshik said. “Do you have a second?”

“For my favorite social media specialist? Always,” Hakyeon said warmly, gesturing to the chair. Wonshik slumped in, feet dragging, and sat with a heavy sigh.

“Who is it this time?” Hakyeon said, propping his chin on his palm.

“Jaehwan asked me if we could start a Youtube channel,” Wonshik said. “I said I’d ask you first.”

“...a Youtube channel for the company?” Hakyeon asked, trying to figure out what that would even look like.

“No, just—just a channel for us,” Wonshik said, tracing little hearts on the desk with a finger. “He’d be a star right away, I just know he would.”

“I can’t tell you no, but I strongly discourage it,” Hakyeon said.

“We could talk about it over dinner,” Wonshik said wistfully.

“You cannot date Jaehwan, Wonshik, we’ve been over this,” Hakyeon reminded him patiently. Wonshik drooped even more, sighing again.

“I know,” he said. “But— _Jaehwan._ ”

“It was Director Hyuna last time.”

“It’s always Director Hyuna, she’s a national treasure.”

“Except now it’s Jaehwan.”

“It never stopped being Jaehwan, hyung, it’s _Jaehwan._ ”

“I don’t care if it’s Lee Jaehwan _or_ Director Hyuna, _you cannot date your coworkers_ , it’s strictly against company policy,” Hakyeon said for the hundredth time.

“I know,” Wonshik said very sadly. “I just—needed to tell somebody.”

Hakyeon felt his heart twist; Wonshik was just too sweet sometimes, even if his constant and intense crushes on multiple coworkers simultaneously drove him up the wall, professionally speaking. He patted Wonshik’s hand.

“Well, I’m hear to listen,” he said. “What will you tell Jaehwan?”

“That I already have a Youtube channel and it would be a conflict of interest,” Wonshik said. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Hakyeon said warmly. Wonshik stood up with another sigh. Before he could leave, the door burst open and a stormy Hongbin threw himself into the room.

“He did it again,” Hongbin said, radiating fury. “I set his emails _and_ her emails to automatically forward to me and guess what just popped up in my inbox?!”

Hakyeon threw his mind back, trying to figure out who “he” was—he scowled when a name floated to the top of his mind.

“I’m going to take a wild guess: a dick?” Hakyeon said, feeling his own fury bloom. He’d given security explicit directions to deny the culprit entry to the building, and to have his possessions waiting in a box for him at the door. He should not have had access to his account.

“His work address is locked, but he must have saved hers, because it came from what I can only assume is his personal account,” Hongbin explained. “I saved the message, then deleted it from her inbox. Hopefully she hasn’t seen it yet.” 

Wonshik was still standing by the door, so Hakyeon nodded his head at him to signal him to leave; without a word, he slipped out and shut it quietly behind him. Hakyeon turned his attention back to Hongbin.

“Are _you_ okay?” he asked. “You’ve seen most of these, I’m assuming?” Hongbin slid into Wonshik’s vacated chair and put his face in his hands.

“I’ve seen all of them,” Hongbin informed him. “I had to keep the record.”

“Oh Binnie,” Hakyeon said sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”

“Better me than her,” Hongbin said with a heavy sigh. “I’ve seen worse anyway.”

“Still,” Hakyeon said, “Repeated unwanted exposure is pretty traumatizing, even if you’re not the target. If you need a breather, you know you can come to me, right? You’ve got plenty of paid holidays built up.”

“No offense, but you need me,” Hongbin pointed out. “Nobody else does house calls.”

“You don’t have to do those,” Hakyeon informed him.

“I know,” Hongbin said. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice when Mr. Jung calls. His wife always makes us lunch while his phone syncs.”

It was very difficult to dislike their CEO; he was almost bafflingly kind and had somehow avoided the trap of building a business empire on the backs of others. As far as anyone could tell, Mr. Jung had done it with honesty and mutual respect. It was one of the great mysteries of their CEO, but also the one that inspired so much loyalty and trust in his long-term employees. It was hard to get a job at one of Jung Enterprises’ assets, but once you did, you were taken care of.

“What can I do?” Hakyeon asked, patting him on the hand. Hongbin sighed again, but he straightened in his seat.

“Honestly, nothing at this point that you haven’t already done,” Hongbin told him. “It pisses me off that he’s still coming after her through this account though. I blocked the private he used today, but it takes three seconds to make a new one, so it might save us all some time if I just make _her_ a new work address.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Hakyeon said. “Would you like to tell her, or should I?”

“She still doesn’t know me personally,” Hongbin said, shrinking in his seat a bit. “You should do it.”

Hongbin, for reasons Hakyeon didn’t fully understand, preferred to remain a nameless, faceless entity known only as “IT.” He didn’t even use his full title: Head of Internal Information Technology and Network Management. Admittedly, it was a bit long to tag on the end of every email.

“Alright,” Hakyeon said, “just let me know when you’re ready to switch her over.”

“Can do,” Hongbin said, standing up. The rage had bled off him a bit, but he still looked a bit agitated; Hakyeon wished there was more he could do, but some things were just part of Hongbin’s job; as shitty as it was, he seemed to tolerate low-grade stress fairly well as long as it meant he got to work mostly alone. He had a handful of people working under him, but his management style was very hands-off-unless-things-are-on-literal-fire. His people seemed to like it that way.

“Take a long lunch today,” Hakyeon ordered him. “You earned it.”

“Sure thing, Director,” Hongbin said with a sarcastic salute. The door had barely clicked shut behind him before popping open again to reveal Wonshik—again.

“Hyung,” Wonshik said, rushing in. “Did he really see—that kind of stuff?”

“He sees a lot of it, unfortunately,” Hakyeon said. “Remember that company-wide seminar last year? The one about ethical treatment of company property and technology?”

“The one that told us not to go on Facebook at work?” Wonshik asked. “I got out of that one, it was remedial for media.”

“Ah, I forgot,” Hakyeon said. “I guess it doesn’t make sense if your job _is_ social media.”

“Basically,” Wonshik said with a shrug. “We still have a lot of internal oversight though, no personal account usage on company machines or time.”

“Well, Hongbin put together an hour-long lecture on why you should not, under any circumstances, have explicit sexual content on company property. He even had a truncated list of things he’d come across in the last year alone. It was... eye-opening,” Hakyeon explained. “Unfortunately...”

“Nobody listened,” Wonshik elaborated with a sigh. “Poor guy. Someone like him shouldn’t ever have to look at that stuff.”

“What do you mean ‘someone like him’?” Hakyeon asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Uh,” Wonshik said. “Uhhhhhhh.”

“Kim Wonshik,” Hakyeon said sternly. “No.”

“I didn’t—”

“I said _no_ , Wonshik,” Hakyeon scolded.

“But he’s so hand—”

“ _No means no, Kim Wonshik,_ ” Hakyeon interrupted. “You cannot have a crush on Director Hyuna, Jaehwan, _and_ Hongbin, I do _not_ have the time to talk you out of hitting on _three people_ that you _work with._ No dating coworkers. That’s the rule, Wonshik.”

“I wasn’t going to hit on him!” Wonshik protested. “I’ll just pine after him from afar! He won’t even know it’s me!”

“Know it’s you _what?!_ ”

Wonshik looked evasive.

“Nothing,” he said, full of unconvincing false innocence. Hakyeon sighed and put his face in his hands. It was too early for this—usually he didn’t have to worry about Wonshik’s near-bottomless pansexual polyamory until at _least_ lunch.

That was the power of Hongbin’s jawline, he supposed.

They were interrupted by Taekwoon entering the office; he once again had a tray of drinks in his hands, although this time there were five. The moment he saw Wonshik, he froze in place.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll come back.” He turned and started to leave, but Hakyeon stopped him.

“No, it’s fine, please,” Hakyeon said, waving him over with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Wonshik and I were just chatting about poor Hongbin.”

“What happened to Hongbin?” Taekwoon asked, cautiously moving into the room fully. He seemed to be trying to skirt against the wall as much as possible, coming around the back side of Hakyeon’s desk and placing a cup in front of him. Taekwoon glanced at Wonshik, then down at his tray.

He dropped his head, face red.

“Taekwoon?” Hakyeon asked, leaning forward so he could tilt and see Taekwoon’s face.

“...I didn’t bring enough again,” Taekwoon mumbled.

“If you keep trying to bring enough coffee for everyone you run into in my office, you’re going to drain your trust fund to the bottom,” Hakyeon informed him.

“I don’t have a trust fund,” Taekwoon bristled slightly. “None of us do. We got pocket money from junior high and we had to save it ourselves.”

“Did you?” Hakyeon asked curiously. Taekwoon nodded once, sharp. “Knowing your father, I can’t imagine it was an unusually large amount.”

“50,000 won a month,” Taekwoon said. “I got 60,000 won in high school. Inflation.”

“Did you put it in the bank?”

“No,” Taekwoon said. “I put it in the pig.”

Hakyeon pictured a high school Taekwoon counting out 1,000 won notes very seriously over a ridiculously pink piggy bank and had to physically bite back the giggle. Wonshik cleared his throat quite loudly; Hakyeon blinked.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “Taekwoon, this is Kim Wonshik, our Social Media Specialist. Wonshik, this is—”

“Jung Taekwoon,” Wonshik said. “I know.”

“You do?” Taekwoon said, wincing slightly.

“Oh, it’s nothing bad!” Wonshik said quickly. “I had to write a quick intro profile for you on the internal platforms. I asked Mr. Jung to send me a photo of you to put up with it, but...”

“But?” Hakyeon prompted.

“I think he misunderstood, because I just got like, ten baby pictures and then every graduation photo you’ve ever had,” Wonshik explained. “I ended up using the photo you have on LinkedIn and just didn’t mention it to him. You had awesome hair in 9th grade.”

“Thanks?” Taekwoon said very hesitantly. He put the drink tray down on the desk and reached into his briefcase to pull out another slightly-crushed paper bag. “I—I don’t have enough coffees, but... I brought more scones... they’re cranberry today.” He extended the bag to Wonshik, eyes still cast downwards.

“Oh, thanks!” Wonshik said, reaching in and pulling one out. “I didn’t eat breakfast this—”

“ _Kim Wonshik,_ ” Hakyeon interrupted him sharply. “What have I told you about _eating meals regularly?_ ” Wonshik hunched down in his seat guiltily. Hakyeon had spent the past two years reminding Wonshik to eat, to sleep, to take vacation days here and there—he was a chronic over-worker and Hakyeon half expected him to just keel over in exhaustion one day.

“Um,” Wonshik said, “...do that?”

“Food is important,” Taekwoon said with an air of wisdom.

“Well, now I’m eating, aren’t I?” Wonshik told Hakyeon, taking a bite of the scone.

“You are,” Hakyeon said coolly. “And getting crumbs all over my office.”

“Me and my crumbs have work to do,” Wonshik sniffed. “See you later. Oh, nice meeting you,” he added, nodding at Taekwoon. “Thanks for the food.” Taekwoon watched him leave in silence before taking his vacated seat and passing Hakyeon another cup.

“Blackberry, cinnamon, and honey,” Taekwoon murmured. “The barista said it’s popular recently.

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said, smiling warmly. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know,” Taekwoon said. His gaze dropped to the desktop; Hakyeon got the impression there was more he wasn’t saying. He put a hand on Taekwoon’s wrist.

“But?”

Taekwoon looked up at him, startled, before his expression shifted to one of embarrassment.

“...but it’s not like I’m good for anything else,” he said softly.

“That’s not true,” Hakyeon informed him. “You’ve been very helpful; we got through that round of screening in record time. I couldn’t have done that without you.”

“You had Sanghyuk,” Taekwoon pointed out.

“And at any moment, he might be summoned to another department,” Hakyeon informed him. “He mostly hangs around here because he likes me, but truthfully, he’s supposed to be elsewhere.”

“So am I,” Taekwoon reminded him glumly.

“I’d very much like to keep you,” Hakyeon said without thinking. The moment his own words registered, he felt himself blushing; that statement was incredibly easy to misinterpret. Usually he was a bit better about... not letting those thoughts slip. Taekwoon was staring at him in something around confusion, then looked at where Hakyeon’s hand was still on his wrist.

Hakyeon withdrew it instantly.

“I have to have a word with Accounts,” he said, standing abruptly.

“Should I come?” Taekwoon asked, beginning to stand as well. Hakyeon waved him back down in his seat.

“No, it’s fine, just—hold down the fort. If Sanghyuk shows up, tell him the emails are in the blue file. Oh, and _do not_ let Jaehwan do _anything._ ”

Before Taekwoon could answer, Hakyeon darted out the door.

Oh dear.

Sanghyuk and Jaehwan turned up together; Taekwoon handed them both coffee and scones and passed on Hakyeon’s message to the intern as close to exact wording as he could remember. There was something... a little odd about them. For one thing, Sanghyuk couldn’t seem to stop smiling at Jaehwan—Taekwoon could somewhat understand this impulse, because even he sometimes caught himself smiling at the bubbly, sunshiney man, albeit not even half as often. For another, Jaehwan couldn’t seem to stop _touching_ Sanghyuk. He leaned on him, or fussed with his hair or tie—he didn’t even try to hide it.

It was also blatantly clear they couldn’t stop flirting with each other, but Taekwoon didn’t really think that was any of his business. It was _annoying_ , but none of his business.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?” Taekwoon asked abruptly. The other two blinked at him, surprised by the interruption.

“That depends on where he went,” Jaehwan said.

“He said Accounts.”

Sanghyuk winced.

“If it’s what I think it is, he’s firing someone,” he explained. “There’s a woman on probation for misuse of company time, I think? Hongbin-hyung caught her using a VPN to watch streaming videos.”

“When are people going to realize they can’t hide things from Hakyeon-hyung?” Jaehwan asked with a sigh. “Poor guy is probably beating himself up in the stairwell again.”

“He really had high hopes she’d clean up her act, I think,” Sanghyuk said.

“Wait, what about the stairwell?” Taekwoon asked, frowning. Jaehwan sighed again.

“He always goes there after he has to fire someone,” he explained. “I guess because this office is always open to anyone, if he wants time alone...”

“Which stairwell?” Taekwoon asked, standing up. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, the thought of Hakyeon hiding in a stairwell somewhere bothered him so much, but it definitely did.

“3rd floor, east wing,” Jaehwan said. “On the way to the parking lot.”

Taekwoon didn’t say anything else, simply getting to his feet and jogging out the door. He knew which stairwell Jaehwan was referring to; it wasn’t far, but it was also fairly infrequently used due to the elevator being more conveniently located. 

He found Hakyeon on the landing between the 3rd floor and the 4th, sitting on the stairs with his face in his hands.

“Hakyeon?”

Hakyeon’s head jerked up in alarm; he immediately tried to turn away.

“Oh no,” he said, covering his face again. “Oh no, please—go, just—”

“What are you doing here?” Taekwoon asked him softly, confused.

“I’m fine, just—everything is fine, please go back,” Hakyeon attempted, but Taekwoon was having a hard time believing him based on the wobble in his voice.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Taekwoon said, reaching out to put a careful, gentle hand on Hakyeon’s shoulder. It was weird to see him like this; up until now Hakyeon seemed so confident and sure of himself. Stable.

That was gone now.

“...It’s hard,” Hakyeon said very softly.

“What’s hard?”

“Letting people go,” Hakyeon said. “Firing them. I—it’s close to being the worst kind of news you can give someone, so—people are very upset. Understandably. And I—I have to be the one to do it.”

Taekwoon sat down on the step next to him.

“Why you?” he asked.

“Because I’m HR,” Hakyeon said. “That’s one of my primary responsibilities.”

“Couldn’t their managers do it?” Taekwoon suggested. Sure, HR was responsible for all employees to some degree, but as far as he knew, it didn’t _have_ to be Hakyeon.

“I wouldn’t ask anyone else to do this,” Hakyeon said seriously. “It’s one of the things our managers love—HR takes care of it. They don’t have to be the bad guy. They mention it every time we send out the morale survey.”

“But it—” Taekwoon bit back the ‘hurts you’ just in time; he quickly threw out a substitution: “Stresses you out.”

“I can handle a little stress now and then,” Hakyeon said primly.

“You’re hiding in the stairwell,” Taekwoon pointed out. “I’m an expert on hiding, you can’t fool me.”

“I’m not _hiding_ ,” Hakyeon insisted firmly. “My office is just full of very busy and productive people I don’t want to disturb.”

“You also don’t want them to know you’re upset,” Taekwoon said flatly.

“...Maybe a little of that,” Hakyeon said. “Not that I’m upset. I’m not. I’m fine.”

“Hakyeon, literally all of them know,” Taekwoon informed him. “How do you think I found you?”

“You’re Mr. Jung’s son,” Hakyeon said. “I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Taekwoon asked, trying to figure out if he should be offended. Hakyeon sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He unlocked it, browsed to an app and held it out to Taekwoon; it was iMessage.

From his father, to Hakyeon.

_Mr. Jung: Hakyeon-ah, which do you prefer, grapes or melon?_  
_Hakyeon: Grapes, sir, but why do you ask?_  
_Mr. Jung: I’m ordering your birthday basket!_  
_Hakyeon: Sir, you really don’t have to do that!_  
_Mr. Jung: Nonsense, you don’t turn 28 every year!_  
_Mr. Jung: And a little birdy told me you shared your muffin basket last year, so I’m giving you a very direct order now: you may not share your fruit basket with anyone._  
_Hakyeon: Was it Jaehwan?_  
_Mr. Jung: Of course it was Jaehwanie, Hakyeon-ah, he thanked me for the blueberry ones._  
_Hakyeon: Can I share them with Taekwoon?_  
_Mr. Jung: Only if he’s really earned it, I haven’t raised him to be a fruit freeloader. Perhaps don’t leave him alone with it either, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now how quickly food disappears around him._

“It doesn’t disappear,” Taekwoon protested. “I eat it. It’s different.” He passed the phone back, secretly warmed that Hakyeon would even consider sharing his precious birthday fruit basket with him. Then he realized that meant Hakyeon’s birthday was coming up. 

And his father knew it, for some reason.

“I know you said everyone knows,” Hakyeon said quietly, looking at the floor, “but if you could just... keep this between us, I’d appreciate it.”

Taekwoon looked at him, quiet and sad, and immediately decided that Hakyeon deserved whatever peace he found here.

“If you’re fine risking Jaehwan stealing your job,” Taekwoon said with a shrug. Hakyeon smiled at him, still said, but also grateful. Nervous, Taekwoon added a soft, “Should I go too?” Hakyeon blinked, then looked down again.

“I think that would be best,” he said quietly. “I’ll... come back soon anyway.”

Taekwoon desperately didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t think of any excuse good enough to bully Hakyeon into letting him stay, so he just stood up with one last glance at Hakyeon before walking away.

It felt wrong.

Hakyeon was relieved to find his office relatively productive when he returned; Sanghyuk was inexplicably in his chair, but he seemed to have divided up Hakyeon’s usual busywork between himself, Taekwoon, and Jaehwan, with the plate of Taekwoon’s scones on the desk.

“Well,” Hakyeon said. “I knew you were ambitious, but I didn’t think you’d land a promotion this quickly.”

“I didn’t take it, he would have,” Sanghyuk explained, nodding in Jaehwan’s direction. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” Hakyeon sighed. 

“Excuse you,” Jaehwan said with an air of mock-offense. “I make an excellent HR manager.”

“I’m a Director,” Hakyeon corrected him.

“Oh, right!” Jaehwan said as if he’d suddenly remembered. “Actually, that does kind of explain your workload...”

“Sit in your chair,” Taekwoon said softly, reaching out to grab his wrist. “Have a scone. There’s still tea.”

“Thanks Mom,” Jaehwan said brightly, throwing Taekwoon an aggressive double thumbs-up. Hakyeon shot him a disapproving frown; Taekwoon was clearly trying his best, there was no reason to tease him about it. Sanghyuk got out of his seat without fuss and when Hakyeon took his place, a sigh escaped his chest. 

Now Jaehwan was frowning; Taekwoon was looking increasingly distressed.

“What?” Hakyeon asked defensively.

“Are you... okay?” Jaehwan asked carefully.

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon said, forcing a smile onto his face. He was not fine, not yet, but he had work to do and that meant keeping his true feelings tucked away until a more appropriate time. 

‘You’re not,’ Taekwoon mouthed at Hakyeon silently. Hakyeon gave him a warning glare before turning back to Sanghyuk.

“Any new applications come in?” he asked, deliberately chirpy. “I put the ad up for the opening in sales last night, so we should start getting some.”

“I can’t check until you log me in,” Sanghyuk reminded him. 

“You still don’t have your own email?” Hakyeon asked with a cluck. He reached for his phone and dialed a familiar extension. “We can fix that, hang on. Hopefully he’s not in the middle of—Binnie! Got a sec?”

“Are we talking a three minute ‘sec’ or a ‘probably actually like two days solid’ sec?” Hongbin asked. 

“Three minutes,” Hakyeon said. “I heard the tech guy is pretty good so I don’t expect it to take _that_ long.”

“Ha ha,” Hongbin said. “What’ve you got for me then?”

“I need you to set up a profile packet for Sanghyuk.”

“Isn’t he an intern?” Hongbin asked. “Can he _have_ an internal profile?”

“Did you have one?” Hakyeon returned neatly.

“Yeah, because you said you were going to—oh, you’ve already decided to hire him for real when he graduates. Got it. Han Sanghyuk, right? Yeah, I’ll throw it together and send it your way.”

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said sincerely. “Also, if you have another second, can you set him to be CC’d on incoming applications?”

“Are you dibsing him for HR?” Hongbin asked. “Bold. By the way, you’re going to need to put up an ad for a system’s engineer shortly.”

“What!?” Hakyeon squawked in alarm. “Why?! Are you leaving?!” 

“No, hyung, but I’m not the system’s engineer,” Hongbin sighed. “We were doing okay with me and the contractor, but he just got a better offer from some dinky little company and literally walked out after lunch. I can hold down the fort for a while but if you can fill it this week, it would save me some sleep.”

“Don’t scare me like that, goodness,” Hakyeon said. “Send me your requirements when you get a chance and I’ll put out the ad.”

“Appreciated,” Hongbin told him. “Bye!”

“Alright, so you’ll have your own email, login, and system ID in about ten minutes,” Hakyeon informed Sanghyuk as he hung up the phone. “Keep it on the down-low that you have it, otherwise everyone will want one.”

Sanghyuk opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Hakyeon’s office door bursting open with a bang.

“HELP,” Wonshik said before realizing there were quite a few people in the office already—all staring at him. He froze, eyes wide, then slowly flattened himself back against the door as if he thought that would somehow hide him.

Hakyeon put his chin in his hand.

“I’m going to take a wild guess here,” he said flatly. “Your meeting with Y&G’s PR outreach director is today.”

Wonshik nodded aggressively.

“Do you like her?”

“I follow her on Instagram!” Wonshik said in what would have been a squeak, were he not a baritone. “She just came back from Sri Lanka!”

“Wait,” Sanghyuk interrupted, raising his hand like a child in class. “Wait, I think I know who you’re talking about. She was wearing—”

“ _The rashguard_ ,” Wonshik said, putting his face in his hands. “It was so _sporty_.”

“You’re meeting her?” Sanghyuk said. “Wow, have fun with that.”

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon said, beaming, “You’ll be joining Wonshik.”

“What?! Why?!”

“ _Please help me,_ ” Wonshik said, dropping to his knees. “I can’t make eye contact and we have to negotiate a crossover giveaway event!”

Sanghyuk opened his mouth, then closed it. Hakyeon watched with amusement; he was fairly certain no one had ever begged Sanghyuk for help before. At first glance, Wonshik looked like the kind of guy that always had everything under his complete control and liked it that way. That said, a short conversation with him was usually enough to correct that initial impression and reveal his gentle and laid-back personality.

Except when he was utterly panicking over crushes.

“Alright,” Sanghyuk said, heaving a sigh that rang oddly false. “Let’s go; you’re going to have to fill me in if you expect me to do any talking.

“Thank you, _thank you_ ,” Wonshik said, standing. “She’s on her way, I’ll show you what the plan is.”

They left at something of a clip; Hakyeon wasn’t sure when the meeting was, but Wonshik had enough time to work himself up into a tizzy.

“Does he do that a lot?” Taekwoon asked softly, drawing Hakyeon’s attention back to him with a snap.

“Not a _lot_ ,” Hakyeon said, somewhat evasive with Jaehwan in the room. Taekwoon must have noticed his sideways glance, because he dropped it there. Kim Wonshik had an unfortunately affectionate nature and genuinely saw the best in people; in the case of Jaehwan, however, he was one of many.

Jaehwan beamed at him when he noticed Hakyeon looking at him, reminding Hakyeon _why_ he was so well-loved.

“Anything else I can help with?”

“Why don’t you go down to IT and check on Hongbin?” Hakyeon suggested. “Apparently our systems engineer just walked out.” 

“I have no idea how to do that,” Jaehwan told him honestly.

“I don’t expect you to,” Hakyeon said, equally frank. “He could just use a little support today; he’s been kind of beat lately.”

“Got it,” Jaehwan said, standing up and saluting. “Don’t worry hyung, I’ll cheer him up in no time.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Hakyeon said with a smile. When the door latched behind him, Hakyeon felt the expression slide off his face; he only remembered at the last moment that he wasn’t alone. Taekwoon was still perched on a chair at the far end of his desk—staring at him.

Hakyeon threw the smile back up; he was so tired, but the day had just started, and he couldn’t have anyone thinking he was running at any less than 98% efficiency.

“Why?” 

Hakyeon blinked, taken aback by the question.

“Why what?”

“Why are you smiling?” Taekwoon asked in that almost feather-soft voice that did something odd to Hakyeon’s heart.

“Why wouldn’t I be smiling?” Hakyeon asked mildly.

“Because you’re not okay,” Taekwoon said, cutting straight through his guard.

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon protested, but Taekwoon was shaking his head. He reached across the desk to pull the same tumbler he’d “borrowed” yesterday and push it toward Hakyeon. Shortly behind it was a scone on a paper plate.

“Eat,” Taekwoon said. “Drink.” Then without any further comment, he turned his attention back to the stack of resumes. It didn’t feel like a dismissal so much as it felt like he just expected Hakyeon to do as he was told, and there was no need to hover or fuss over him. 

Hakyeon looked at the plate; he let the smile fall just a bit, but not completely. For some reason he felt like just the little curve of it left was real.

Taekwoon was worried.

He wasn’t a full employee technically, so he hadn’t been given access to basically anything in terms of records or files, but that didn’t really matter when your father was the CEO and could access whatever he wanted. A quick exchange of texts with his dad confirmed a suspicion he’d been hoping he was wrong about: Cha Hakyeon was a workaholic. No, he was worse than a workaholic. Much worse.

The concern began at home, when Taekwoon was sitting in the living room watching TV with his mother. She asked him to pass her the throw blanket because she was cold, and as he gave it to her, Hakyeon’s blanket jumped to the forefront of his memory.

Why did Cha Hakyeon have a blanket under his desk? He didn’t seem the type to nap during lunch, and he didn’t normally offer it to people who came in. Did he... sleep there?

He asked his father to look up Hakyeon’s paid holiday record: when was he last sick? When was his last vacation? How many days in a row did he take? How often did he log overtime?

The answers: unknown, two years ago, three, at minimum twice a week and usually closer to four. 

It was mind-boggling. Cha Hakyeon had given more of himself to this company than seemed healthy at this point. The newfound knowledge that he regularly hid in the stairwell (and to some degree faked happy expressions) only made him that much more concerned. Did Hakyeon sleep properly? Eat well? Relax on the weekends? Go home early now and then? Stay home when he was sick? Or did his life revolve around this company and taking care of every person in it?

Taekwoon wasn’t used to being concerned for people.

Worse still, Hakyeon seemed to be somewhat averse to people being concerned for him. While he’d accepted Taekwoon’s food and drink, he practically kicked Taekwoon out of his office at lunch, insisting he would eat later—and then didn’t leave (as far as he knew) for the rest of the day. 

Sanghyuk and Wonshik returned in the evening; the crossover planning had gone well once Wonshik got over his initial embarrassment and shyness. 

“I can’t believe she followed you back,” Sanghyuk said, undisguised awe in his voice.

(“Are they allowed to do that?” Taekwoon asked Hakyeon very softly. He shrugged.

“Wonshik is our entire social media presence,” he said. “He has a little extra wiggle room, and he’s pretty ethical and responsible as a general rule. I trust him not to push it _too_ far.”

“He called her ‘sporty’,” Taekwoon pointed out.

“And he’s called Jaehwan ‘sunshine’, ‘cutest breathing human’, and ‘melodious’,” Hakyeon replied. “He’s got a bit of a wandering eye.”)

“I can’t believe she did either!” Wonshik said, sounding equally awed. He was staring at his phone with an expression somewhere between shock and delight—maybe a little of both. He didn’t notice Sanghyuk hanging slightly behind him, looking... nervous?

“…Can I follow you?” Sanghyuk asked quietly, holding his phone tightly with both hands. Wonshik turned around, blinking in confusion.

“What?”

“Can—can I follow you?” Sanghyuk asked again, but more timidly.

“Oh! Yeah, sure! Hang on, I’ll follow back. What’s your insta?” Wonshik asked immediately. “Mine’s a lot of Butt, sorry.”

Taekwoon whipped around to look at Hakyeon in alarm.

“Butt is his dog,” Hakyeon said with a smile. 

“Butt’s really cute,” Sanghyuk assured Wonshik, visibly excited. “My sister has a dog, his name is Fist.”

“Whoa, he sounds cool,” Wonshik said.

“He’s a toy poodle,” Sanghyuk informed him.

“Slightly less cool,” Wonshik amended, “but I’m sure he’s a very good boy.”

Hakyeon cleared his throat pointedly and both of them looked back; he held up his desk clock. 6:00pm glowed green and Sanghyuk gave a ‘woo~’ of delight. Wonshik frowned and opened his mouth, but Hakyeon held a finger in front of his own mouth to hush him.

“Tomorrow, Wonshik,” Hakyeon told him. “Unplug for a while, okay?”

Wonshik looked ready to argue the point, but Sanghyuk immediately asked if Wonshik wanted to grab food somewhere, nearly dragging him out of Hakyeon’s office with barely a wave of farewell. The door clicked shut.

“That’s an improvement,” Hakyeon commented mildly, sitting down.

“On what?”

“On mentors. Well, maybe ‘mentor’ is a bit strong,” Hakyeon explained, picking up a stack of papers. “He’s attached to Jaehwan, but Jaehwan is... not really a mentor figure. Wonshik can actually guide him.”

“What about you?” Taekwoon asked. “Aren’t you his mentor?”

Hakyeon snorted.

“I’m his supervisor,” Hakyeon explained. “It’s a different kind of relationship.”

Taekwoon wasn’t sure how to feel about that statement, so he decided to let it pass. He stood, waiting, but Hakyeon continued flipping through whatever documents he was reviewing without looking up.

“Hakyeon.”

“Mm?”

“It’s six,” Taekwoon reminded him.

“Yep,” Hakyeon said in a chirp. “See you tomorrow!”

“Aren’t you going?”

“Going where?”

“Home.”

“I have a little more to do still.”

“You need to go home,” Taekwoon informed him.

“I will go home,” Hakyeon said immediately. “Later.”

“Hakyeon—”

“I’m only going to say this once,” Hakyeon interrupted, “Unless I’m conducting myself inappropriately, anything I do is none of your business.”

It was both an incredibly brusque statement, and a demonstration of how significantly Hakyeon underestimated Taekwoon’s stubbornness. Personality wise, Taekwoon didn’t have much in common with his father and generally took after his mother—except for the stubbornness. That was almost entirely his dad.

“Come to dinner with me,” Taekwoon said abruptly. Hakyeon’s head jerked up.

“What?”

“Come to dinner with me,” Taekwoon repeatedly firmly.

“I _just_ told you seconds ago that I have things to do,” Hakyeon said flatly.

“Is that a no?”

“Yes, it’s a no.”

Taekwoon frowned at him.

“Then I’m staying too,” he said, sitting back down. Hakyeon sighed as if Taekwoon was being extremely tiresome.

“You can’t,” he said. “You haven’t filed for overtime.”

“Director Cha, I’m requesting overtime,” Taekwoon said immediately.

“Request denied,” Hakyeon shot back. “Go home.”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” Taekwoon informed him.

“ _I do not need a babysitter,_ ” Hakyeon snapped back, unusually sharp. For a moment, Taekwoon froze, shocked, before feeling a flicker of anger. Hakyeon was running himself into the ground and he expected Taekwoon not to notice or care? He’d rather just burn out? Taekwoon should feel bad for worrying at all?

Fine.

He stood up again, picking up his bag and shooting Hakyeon a look of pure irritation before leaving.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Hakyeon put his head in his hands.

It was incredibly annoying that Taekwoon had apparently decided to be Hakyeon’s keeper. For one thing, he was a grown adult that certainly didn’t need to be monitored—for another, Taekwoon was the last person on earth qualified to do that.

And yet.

“You’re going to go bankrupt if you keep doing this,” Hakyeon informed him as Taekwoon laid out his spread of coffees, tea, and pastry. He had an extra bag, which he held out to Hakyeon wordlessly. Hakyeon raised an eyebrow and didn’t take it. Taekwoon turned red.

“It’s a sandwich,” he informed Hakyeon.

“Why—”

“You didn’t eat lunch yesterday,” Taekwoon said instantly. Hakyeon blinked at him; how could he possibly know that?

“I—”

“ _Hyung,_ ” Hongbin said, bursting into the office so hard the door hit the wall as it swung open. Hongbin often looked tired or irritated when he came to Hakyeon’s office for a break, but Hakyeon had never seen him looking so _upset_ before, and it brought him to his feet instantly.

“Whoa, hey,” he said gently, coming to Hongbin’s side and guiding him by the elbow into the side office and down to the couch. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t do this,” Hongbin said, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I’m so tired of it. I’m done.”

“What happened?” Hakyeon asked him, putting a warm and comforting hand on his shoulder. “Tell me everything.”

“I’m sick of knowing everyone’s dirty laundry,” Hongbin said. “I’m—I’ve seen harassment, gross pervy stuff, and now—now an affair. I didn’t ask for any of this, they just—all over the company servers. They send in a request and I use remote assistance and it’s all just _there_ out in the open on their desktops.”

“That’s—”

“I don’t want to know any of this, but I do, and I can’t forget it,” Hongbin said quietly. “How am I supposed to look any of these people in the eye?”

“Hang on, okay?” Hakyeon said gently. “I’ll be back in a second.”

When he stepped back into his main office, he was surprised to see Wonshik sitting next to Taekwoon and craning his neck to look at Hongbin.

“Is he okay?” Wonshik whispered.

“No,” Hakyeon said. “He isn’t.” He grabbed a notepad off his desk and turned back, but Taekwoon was holding out a scone on a paper plate; Hakyeon took it without a word. Returning to Hongbin, he put the plate in front of him.

“Okay,” he said softly. “I know there’s been a lot going on lately, but you haven’t had much to report.”

“I don’t report about 60% of what I see,” Hongbin said with a sigh. “I tell you about the creepy stuff and the illegal stuff, but technically there’s nothing wrong with emailing the person you’re having an affair with—I mean, morally there’s a lot wrong, but there’s no ‘anti-affair’ policy.”

“How did you even get exposed to that?” Hakyeon asked. “I’m not blaming you or anything, I’m just trying to understand.”

“The woman wanted to know if her email had been accessed from outside the office,” he said. “I had to trace her IP; I found one hit from earlier in the week that came from her home. She flipped out and said she wanted me to purge her inbox and change her password before her husband saw it.”

“So she admitted to the affair?!”

“She didn’t have to,” Hongbin said. “The subject lines in her emails said it all. Nothing explicit, just—blatant.” He wilted even more; Hakyeon wasn’t sure what to do. He absolutely empathized, but Hongbin had been exactly right: technically, no policies had been violated aside from “please don’t use your work address for personal matters.” As much as he wanted some sort of retribution on Hongbin’s behalf, there was nothing to punish—and no reprimand would remove this extremely uncomfortable knowledge from his shoulders.

Hakyeon was at a complete loss.

“What can I do?” he asked Hongbin softly.

“Nothing,” Hongbin said sounding hollow. “Absolutely nothing.”

Hakyeon’s heart broke for him.

“Binnie, go home,” he said. Hongbin’s head lifted.

“What?”

“Go home,” Hakyeon said. “You need to decompress, you’re burning out. Just—take today off. Tomorrow too, if you need it.”

“The IT department—”

“You are irreplaceable, but we do have people who can reasonably cover for you,” Hakyeon reminded him. “One or two days won’t tank the company. It’s more important for you to be on your A game, and I highly doubt that’s what will happen today if you stay.”

Hongbin was looking at him with so much gratitude he felt guilty for never offering this before.

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah, that’s—I think I need it.” They moved back into the main office and Hongbin left to get his things and go home. Taekwoon and Wonshik stared at the door, then looked back at Hakyeon.

“He’s... really in a bad spot, huh,” Wonshik said. 

“He puts up with a lot,” Hakyeon sighed. “I think this just hit too many of his buttons at once.”

Wonshik looked back at the door again.

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon said sharply. “No.”

“What?” Wonshik said, full of what he probably thought sounded like innocence. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it,” Hakyeon accused him.

“Thinking what?” Wonshik asked again, widening his eyes.

“I don’t need specifics to know it’s unethical,” Hakyeon said. “No.”

Wonshik huffed as if he was deeply offended and got up.

“If I’m just going to be _slandered_ , I’m leaving,” he informed them. “I don’t need to sit here and be _wrongfully suspected_.”

“Bye Wonshik,” Taekwoon said, mouth half-full of scone. Wonshik huffed again before making his dramatic exit. As soon as he was gone, Taekwoon turned back to Hakyeon.

“When is your next day off?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hakyeon said absently, turning back to his stack of overtime requests.

“Answer me,” Taekwoon demanded. Hakyeon sighed and looked up, ready to nag him again, only to see Taekwoon had simply pushed all his food into his cheeks like a hamster. He also had crumbs on his face. Without even thinking about it, Hakyeon reached across the desk and brushed them off. Taekwoon froze; Hakyeon was slammed with instant embarrassment and turned red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pretending to busy himself with something on his computer. “You had crumbs.”

Taekwoon messily wiped his face with his sleeve. It was both childish and adorable, like a good 40% of the things Taekwoon did. It was starting to worry Hakyeon slightly how cute Taekwoon was; how could he continue to draw lines for Wonshik if he—

What? Thought Taekwoon was cute? Or handsome? Or sweet? Or—

Hakyeon shook his head to clear his mind of such traitorous thoughts before they could put down roots.

“Let’s get back to—”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Taekwoon interrupted. “It’s tomorrow, right? Nobody’s here on Saturdays.”

“I need to—”

“Come out with me tonight,” Taekwoon said. His constant disruption of Hakyeon’s attempts to handwave his nagging away was starting to annoy him again.

“No,” Hakyeon said. “I don’t ‘go out’.”

“Not to like a club or anything,” Taekwoon protested with a frown. “Too loud. Just a galbi place.”

“Why are you doing this?” Hakyeon asked, dodging the question again.

“Because—because you need to take a break,” he answered, sounding genuinely frustrated. “It’s just like you told Hongbin: you need to decompress.”

Hakyeon wanted to refuse him, but the part of him that had an unrelenting need to mother-hen got stuck on the way Taekwoon seemed so bothered by being brushed off. Was it really going to throw off his schedule if he left on time just this once, if only to alleviate Taekwoon’s utterly baseless concerns?

He could always go out for a couple of hours and come back after.

“Fine,” Hakyeon sighed. “Let me just—clean up here a bit.”

“Great!” Taekwoon said in arguably the loudest voice Hakyeon had ever heard him use. “I’ll come back in... twenty minutes?”

“I—sure,” Hakyeon said, slightly taken aback by his enthusiasm. “Twenty minutes.”

Taekwoon beamed, and Hakyeon’s stomach flipped over.

This was a terrible idea.

Taekwoon wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, only that he wandered aimlessly around the building trying to kill the next twenty minutes with increasingly sweaty palms. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten Hakyeon to agree in the first place; sure, it had taken a bit of pushing but in the end...

When he made it back to Hakyeon’s office, “clean up” was not as put away as he was expecting; there were still piles on the desk, but with post it notes on top to label them.

“There you are,” Hakyeon said, smiling at him. Taekwoon’s heartbeat kicked up; how did anyone survive around this guy? Why didn’t people just drop dead of heart attacks around him constantly? “Shall we head out?”

Taekwoon nodded and Hakyeon made for the door.

“Aren’t you bringing your briefcase?” Taekwoon asked, pointing at it on the desk.

“Ah,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon watched his expression, suspicious, and sure enough, right _there_ —“I’ll leave it here, it’s heavy. Nothing I need until Monday!”

He was lying. Taekwoon knew he was lying, but he felt like calling Hakyeon out for it after getting him to come out was pushing his luck. His dad said it all the time: people move forward step by step, not by leaps. If you want someone to do better, you have to be patient with them.

Especially for people who were not particularly patient with themselves. Clearly, Hakyeon intended to come back, probably tomorrow if not tonight. 

“Is it nearby?” Hakyeon asked, tucking his phone into his shirt pocket. 

“It’s a fifteen-minute drive,” Taekwoon informed him.

“Wow, so I get to see your car?” Hakyeon asked, elbowing him playfully. “Is it nice?”

“No,” Taekwoon said. “It’s a Santa-Fe, I bought it off my sister when I graduated. The stroller barely fit anyway.”

“Huh,” Hakyeon said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, your father—”

“Has eight cars,” Taekwoon interrupted. “He only drives the sedan during the week.”

“ _Eight!?_ Hakyeon squeaked.

“Yep,” Taekwoon sighed. “The newest one is a Tesla.”

“But—he’s so _practical_ ,” Hakyeon said, sounding genuinely upset by the implication that his incredibly wealthy boss might actually _use_ his incredible wealth to buy extremely expensive cars like nearly every other wealthy person on the planet.

“He drives them on the weekends,” Taekwoon said, unsure which part of this revelation was bothering Hakyeon.

“Do you drive them?” Hakyeon asked curiously.

“Mom gets to drive them,” Taekwoon said with a sigh. “Only her though.”

They arrived at Taekwoon’s extremely underwhelming and mundane used SUV; he had a sudden wave of panic, realizing that his car had not been properly cleaned in a very long time. Hopefully there weren’t any empty coffee cups rolling around. Or at least that they stayed in the backseat.

“I hope you’re at least a responsible driver,” Hakyeon said, moving to the passenger-side door. When Taekwoon didn’t answer him, he frowned.

“Please don’t tell me you have an accident record,” he said, seeming more hesitant about getting into the car.

“No accidents,” he sighed. “Just tickets.”

“Do you speed?” Hakyeon asked sharply. 

“No, _mom_ ,” he grumped. “I stopped in a no-parking zone.” Hakyeon snorted at the nickname, but finally got in and pulled the seatbelt across. If he noticed the less-than-spotless interior situation, he hid it well. 

“Why on earth—”

“Ducks.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ducks,” Taekwoon said, shrugging. “A mom and like ten babies. They were trying to cross the street but it was kind of busy so... I pulled over.”

“You—you helped a bunch of ducklings across traffic?” Hakyeon said, putting one hand on his heart.

“They were going to die,” Taekwoon informed him, adjusting his own seat belt and starting the car.

“That’s—that’s so— _sweet._ ”

“Tell that to the cop,” Taekwoon said, aware his voice had gone whiny. “This is on my permanent record now.”

“The cutest permanent record,” Hakyeon informed him firmly. “You said ‘tickets’ before though—plural. What about the others?”

“ _Other_ ,” Taekwoon said. “Only two total.”

“Fine, other. What about that one?”

Taekwoon put his head on the steering wheel. What was this, a trial? While the duck ticket was mildly embarrassing, the other ticket was extremely embarrassing. For him. Mostly for him.

“I got nervous,” Taekwoon mumbled into the handle. Hakyeon made a sound that was somewhat encouraging, so he continued. “I was trying to parallel park by myself for the first time.”

“Terrifying,” Hakyeon said in a mock-whisper.

“The car in front was a new BMW.”

“Intimidating!”

“The car behind was a Porsche.”

Hakyeon hissed through his teeth.

“So I just... kept inching forward and back for... a long time,” Taekwoon said. “The cop ticketed me for being a hazard.”

Hakyeon patted him on the top of the head.

“Parallel parking is a difficult time in the lives of all drivers,” he said very seriously. “It takes a very strong person to even consider squeezing a Santa-Fe between a BMW and a Porsche.”

“It wasn’t this car,” Taekwoon informed him, dipping into whining again, “it was my really old Kia.”

“You really had everything to lose,” Hakyeon said sympathetically.

“Are we done talking about my driving record?” Taekwoon asked. “I’m hungry.” 

“The interrogation has ended,” Hakyeon told him with another gentle pat. “Let’s get some food.”

“Good,” Taekwoon said, straightening. His stomach growled in agreement and Hakyeon laughed.

Hakyeon wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the fact that Taekwoon was relatively slim in his well-tailored suits didn’t entirely prepare him for the speed and intensity with which he demolished his food. It wasn’t like he had some sort of overblown food-gasm reaction like some people, but literally everything he put in his mouth seemed to please him and add to an increasingly relaxed and light mood. He’d also removed his tie and stuffed it in his bag carelessly; as he ate, he opened the top three buttons of his shirt and pushed up his sleeves.

Hakyeon didn’t notice he was staring until Taekwoon looked up over the rim of his cup of water and raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. Blushing, Hakyeon looked at his plate. What was he _doing?_

“Are you okay?” Taekwoon asked him softly. “You’re... not eating much.”

“I am,” Hakyeon protested with a frown. “Your point of reference is off; you eat a lot.”

“I like food,” Taekwoon said, a touch defensively.

“I can tell,” Hakyeon said dryly.

“You look hot,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon’s gaze snapped up in pure alarm. It wasn’t until Taekwoon gestured at his own throat that he realized he was referring to temperature, not appearance.

He was disappointed, and then further alarmed by his disappointment.

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon said, clearing his throat. Taekwoon snorted in a way that sounded like he didn’t buy it, but he went back to inhaling the meat as it came off the grill.

He also started putting things on Hakyeon’s plate for him, meeting Hakyeon’s annoyed glare with bland, flat defiance.

“Insubordination,” Hakyeon informed him. Taekwoon shrugged, utterly unconcerned by the accusation. He continued to give Hakyeon food, but it was curiously... specific. Hakyeon liked his galbi a touch on the rare side, whereas Taekwoon liked it a little more done. Instead of grilling everything to his preference... he left some rare, putting them straight on his plate. Hakyeon wasn’t sure when he’d worked it out, since he’d never stated it out loud.

Was he really watching Hakyeon that closely?

“How is your nephew?” Hakyeon asked, hoping to distract himself. Taekwoon perked up in surprise.

“How do you—”

“We start directors’ meetings with baby photos and pet photos. It’s the first five minutes; the agenda technically says something like ‘check-in’ but it’s purely for cute pictures,” Hakyeon informed him.

“What do you show?” Taekwoon asked curiously. “Do you have a cat or something?”

“I have four nephews and one more nephew on the way,” Hakyeon told him. “The oldest is about to start junior high school, but the youngest just started talking.”

“...Do you like them?” Taekwoon asked after a pause. “Babies, I mean.”

“Of course,” Hakyeon said instantly. “They’re babies. Can you ever be unhappy when you’re playing with a baby?”

“No,” Taekwoon said firmly. “It’s impossible.”

“So you want them?”

“Kids?”

“Yeah.”

“When I get married, yeah,” Taekwoon said. “My family is big, so—I want something like that.”

“How many?” Hakyeon asked, aware once the words left his mouth that he was getting a little personal. Taekwoon seemed not to notice, however, and simply tipped his head back to think.

“At least three,” he concluded finally. “Probably more like four or five, but... well, it’s easy for me to say.” When Hakyeon tilted his head questioningly, Taekwoon elaborated. “I’m not the one who has to be pregnant.”

“True,” Hakyeon said. “I suppose that does have a considerable impact.”

“How about you?” Taekwoon said; he nudged Hakyeon’s knee with his own. Hakyeon’s gaze dropped to his plate.

“I’d love them,” he said quietly. “Lots.” Not that he was likely to ever get them, of course. How could he? There were exactly zero wives in his future—zero women at all. That had been the hardest part of coming to terms with himself: the family he wanted was impossible. The dream of a house full of children and fatherhood—grandfatherhood—everything. Gone. He’d be an uncle forever at least.

Taekwoon nudged his knee again. He looked up, meeting Taekwoon’s gaze squarely. He didn’t speak, but the question was there clear as day.

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon said immediately, instinctively. He was. Somewhat. Or would be, someday. “Are there more mushrooms?”

Taekwoon put two on the grill and they dropped the topic without further comment.

The longer they sat at the small table, eating and talking and existing outside the context of The Office, the more Taekwoon got the impression that he really didn’t know enough about Hakyeon. Every question he had seemed to lead to another question, each as engaging as the last. At the same time, the conversation kept dipping into something quiet and almost... sad? It always felt like Hakyeon was holding back—like saying it all would hurt him, somehow.

Taekwoon knew that feeling. 

He didn’t know how to tell Hakyeon, partly because he didn’t know the words to express it, and partly because he wasn’t sure they were friendly enough at this point to be so... intimate. The only thing he knew for sure was that he _wanted_ to be that friendly. He watched Hakyeon pick at his plate, glancing at his watch and mentally counting down the minutes until he could sneak back to the office.

Taekwoon wasn’t going to let him.

He added more food to Hakyeon’s plate, touched on topics as they occurred to him, and waited to see if he could do for Hakyeon what Hakyeon did for essentially everyone else: listen.

“Hakyeon,” he said as the conversation came to a natural lull, “what’s with the stairwell?”

Hakyeon’s face twisted for a moment, and Taekwoon almost regretted bringing it up.

“Sometimes—sometimes I think about letting department heads and managers handle it,” he explained quietly. Taekwoon wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d stopped nudging at Hakyeon’s knee and just stayed touching, but he was glad for it now; it felt a little bit more grounded. 

“You could,” Taekwoon said.

“Yes, but they don’t like it,” Hakyeon reminded him. “They prefer that I do it. And I understand why, I honestly do. I’m—I’m good at giving bad news. I’m good at de-escalation, I’m good at staying calm, I’m—I recognize I’m objectively better at it.”

“But you hate it,” Taekwoon pointed out.

“It doesn’t matter if I hate it,” Hakyeon said. 

“It does.”

“It _doesn’t_ , this is still within my job duties and a significant part of my position,” he said. “Everyone has things about their job they dislike.”

“Not everyone has to go hide—”

“I’m not _hiding_ ,” Hakyeon snapped. “I’m removing myself from a situation before I can cause others unnecessary concern. I’m a professional, it’s the responsible action.”

“It _hurts_ you,” Taekwoon said. “How is that responsible?”

“It just—it just is,” Hakyeon said. “You don’t—there’s no way out, I’ve thought about it and—it is what it is.”

He seemed to be getting a bit worked up, and Taekwoon wasn’t sure whether or not he should let the subject drop, or push a little more and get Hakyeon to vent more of this off; he put a hand on Hakyeon’s wrist.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“You can’t, you’re—”

“Driving, I know, but you aren’t,” Taekwoon said.

“I’d—no thank you,” Hakyeon said. “I’m not big on drinking in public.”

“We could go back to my place,” Taekwoon suggested. The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he could be misinterpreted by the one person who probably could fire him, but—

Hakyeon was looking at his hand. Taekwoon started to pull it back, but before he could, Hakyeon’s other hand came to rest on top. For a moment that felt like forever, they silently stared at their fingers.

“...Okay.”

Taekwoon wasn’t sure why his chest exploded in delighted flutters, exactly, but his brain started helpfully filling with Ideas and Images of Hakyeon in _his apartment_ , relaxed and smiling and comfortable. He saw their fingers, but instead of a slightly-sticky restaurant table top, it was Taekwoon’s sofa underneath.

He wasn’t going to wait for Hakyeon to change his mind; he curled his fingers around Hakyeon’s wrist so he wouldn’t run, and flagged the waiter for the check.

Hakyeon’s pulse under his fingers was thundering; Taekwoon tried not to think about it because if he did, he fully expected to do something stupid. Getting from the table to the car was something of a blur; he probably said words, but he honestly couldn’t remember what they even were because Hakyeon was getting in his car, and they were driving to his apartment, and then Hakyeon would sit down with him and drink and talk and maybe he would _smile_ that big and beautiful—

Taekwoon’s train of thought stopped so abruptly he nearly braked in the middle of the street.

Beautiful. Beautiful. _Beautiful smile._

Shit.

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. He had invited a beautiful man to his home for drinks and he hadn’t even fully realized why he had invited the beautiful man until _just now._

“Do you have beer?” Hakyeon asked calmly from the passenger seat. 

“Yeah,” Taekwoon’s jaw hinged on autopilot. “And soju.”

Hakyeon hummed acknowledgement and time seemed to warp again because they were pulling into the parking garage, then going up the elevator, then Cha Hakyeon was walking into his apartment and toeing off his shoes, accepting the guest slippers with that _smile._

“Sorry, it’s a little messy,” Taekwoon apologized immediately, self-conscious. “And small. It’s just me so there wasn’t really any reason to—to go bigger or newer, I—I just—”

Hakyeon put a hand on his elbow and chuckled.

“You don’t have guests very often, do you?” he asked, amused. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I still lived in a studio until last October.”

God, he was so nervous.

“Grab a seat,” Taekwoon said, leading him to the living room. “I’ll get drinks.” 

He brought back a pair of beers and a bottle of soju; when they broke into that, he’d get glasses. Nothing could have fully prepared him for what he saw upon his return: Hakyeon had finally taken off his tie, undone a button, and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

It seemed monumentally unfair for Hakyeon to be so handsome with what seemed to be essentially zero effort, in addition to being a lovely person overall. 

Taekwoon handed him a beer and hoped Hakyeon wouldn’t notice his hand shaking. Immediately after, he froze, realizing he had no idea where to sit: he could take the lone arm chair, but it was at a weird angle from the couch and talking would be awkward. Not as awkward as boldly plopping down on the couch _next_ to Hakyeon though, so—

“You panic very overtly,” Hakyeon informed him with another chuckle. “Sit down.” He patted the sofa next to him.

“I’m not pancaking— _panicking_ ,” Taekwoon mumbled.

“Of course,” Hakyeon said as soon as Taekwoon settled. He patted his knee in a placating manner. “You would never pancake.”

“Cheers,” Taekwoon said before Hakyeon could embarrass him more; they clinked their bottles, but just before he took a sip, he realized Hakyeon was staring at him with an odd expression.

“What?”

“Do you always do this?” Hakyeon said.

“Cheers?”

“No, I mean—you said you don’t have a lot of guests.”

“Right.”

“So—so do your friends come over to drink?”

Taekwoon thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t... have that many friends,” he confessed softly. There was a beat of silence, then Hakyeon clinked their bottles together once more.

“You have one more,” Hakyeon informed him before taking a drink. 

He felt the blush bloom with the smile.

Hakyeon didn’t usually drink at all, and when he did, it wasn’t much. He wasn’t a lightweight by any means, but drinking never made him feel comfortable so much as it made him feel exposed and slightly anxious. He was pointedly and painfully aware of how quickly his mouth would start speaking before he’d taken the time to put his thoughts together; he never lied, but he was more explicitly honest in ways that didn’t always help.

That said, sitting on Taekwoon’s couch and drinking with him was possibly the most relaxing thing he’d done in months. It was such a small thing: alone in a room with a single human being, drinking cheap beer and slowly warming up. It was almost strange how comfortable he was, but Taekwoon had this incredibly quiet but attentive presence that never felt like he was demanding anything from Hakyeon. He just seemed happy to be together.

Taekwoon was smiling at him in between every sip, and Hakyeon couldn’t stop himself from noticing things, like the little mole under his eye, the length of his eyelashes, and the curve of his lips. At some point, Hakyeon had sort of pulled one foot up under him, turning his body towards Taekwoon and resting an elbow on the back of the couch, his hand on his temple. Sometime later, Taekwoon’s hand landed on his knee, and against his better judgment, he left it there.

“Okay,” he said, “You have to choose: puppies or kitties?”

“Come on,” Taekwoon whined. “I can’t.”

“Choose,” Hakyeon said seriously. Taekwoon pulled a face at him.

“...Puppies,” he said finally. “They get along better with babies.”

“Interesting,” Hakyeon said. 

“Your turn,” Taekwoon shot back.

“Neither,” Hakyeon said. “I like snakes.”

“ _Snakes?!_ ”

“Yeah,” Hakyeon said. “They’re cute. They have those little button eyes and the way their tongue flicks is just—cute.”

“I don’t get it, but okay,” Taekwoon said. He shifted, then winced. Without any warning, Taekwoon removed his belt and tossed it on the chair, shifting again until he was comfortable. It made perfect sense to do in the comfort of his own home, but Hakyeon was having a hard time not thinking about it. Now he was mirroring Hakyeon’s arm, but instead of resting his head against his hand, he let his long fingers hang. 

“It is cute!” Hakyeon insisted, trying desperately to not get lost in Taekwoon’s eyes. “Just—a little thbbth thing.”

“It’s cute when you do it,” Taekwoon said, smiling. Hakyeon felt his heart flip.

Was he really only on his second beer?!

“It’s much cuter on the actual snake,” Hakyeon said, but he wasn’t even listening to himself anymore because Taekwoon’s hand on his leg had started moving, just ever-so-slightly, small and slow circles—

“I doubt it,” Taekwoon said, amused and oddly resolute.

“Trust me,” Hakyeon said.

“I do,” Taekwoon said, “Just not with this.”

“You—”

“Do you trust me?”

“...Yes,” Hakyeon’s mouth said without him, soft. He wasn’t lying.

“Good,” Taekwoon said, just as soft. “Now accept it.”

“Accept what?”

“That you’re cute.”

“I’m not—”

“You are, Hakyeon.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“Should I prove it?”

“Prove it?”

Taekwoon was moving, or maybe he was moving. It was hard to tell—all he knew was that Taekwoon’s fingers were on his cheek and his eyes were closing and they were close and his heart was going to beat right out of his chest and Taekwoon was warm and last time he checked Taekwoon’s mouth was extremely close and that meant he was going to—

It took every last fiber of will power left in his body for Hakyeon to turn his head away at the last possible moment; Taekwoon’s kiss landed on his cheek and he pulled back abruptly.

“Hakyeon?” Taekwoon asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“I have to go,” Hakyeon said. “I—I have to go home.” He stood up and Taekwoon’s hand shot out to catch his wrist; Hakyeon anticipated being pulled down, but was surprised to find he wasn’t even really being held back.

“Hakyeon, wait,” Taekwoon said. “Wait, don’t—why—”

“I just have a lot to do, you know?” Hakyeon babbled, throwing out the first excuse to come to mind. Where was his briefcase? His jacket? The door?

“Did I do—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hakyeon said, finding himself in the entryway and jamming his feet into his shoes. “Thank you for the drinks. Goodnight. Goodbye.” He didn’t even wait for the elevator and simply fled down the stairwell.

He stopped at the bottom.

“Fuck.”

Taekwoon looked at Hakyeon’s necktie, and the spot where mere seconds earlier he’d been sitting comfortably.

“Fuck.”

They’d been doing so well. It felt so natural, so _easy_ to be with Hakyeon. Taekwoon’s nerves faded away from a constant ringing tinnitus of fear into a dull, almost pleasant thrum every time Hakyeon smiled at him. His heart fluttered and his chest felt warm in a way he couldn’t remember, off hand, ever feeling before. Taekwoon could still _smell_ him where they’d nearly—

What the hell happened? Sure, Taekwoon didn’t exactly _ask_ to kiss him, but all the signals were there that this was going to happen, Hakyeon wanted it to happen, Hakyeon was feeling things too and it was great.

Except it wasn’t, apparently. Taekwoon sat down, running the necktie through his fingers. Had he been wrong? Was it possible he’d completely misread Hakyeon and ended up... hurting him? Scaring him? Something?

He felt sick.

Taekwoon found his phone in his jacket pocket; he wanted to call Hakyeon, but he realized with a dim sense of despair that he didn’t actually even have his _number._ Instinctively, he dialed a different number; it rang three times before he thought to check a clock and realized how late it was.

“Sorry,” he said as soon as it picked up. “Sorry, it’s late, nevermind, I’ll—”

“Taekwoonie, what’s wrong?” his father’s warm voice asked, heavy with concern. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Taekwoon said. “I mean, yes. Kind of. I’m—I think I messed up and—I don’t know what to do.”

“You sound upset,” his father said gently. “What happened?”

Taekwoon ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. What _had_ happened?!

“There was—I kind of went out with someone and—we came back here but—I just—I thought—”

“Stop,” his father said, still gentle. “Sort your thoughts, then tell me. I can’t understand a riddle this late, dear.” Taekwoon took a deep breath: Sort. Arrange. Put it in a logical order of some kind. His father had been coaching him on it for years; he would get so wound up and anxious, his words turned into soup. What little confidence he had was eroded when no one understood. It was only years of practice arranging his panic that he started to feel brave again.

“After work, I went to galbi with someone,” he explained, deciding chronological order was probably the most efficient. “It was really fun, but we decided we wanted to drink, so we came back to my place.”

“Sounds good so far.”

“We—we talked more,” Taekwoon continued. “It—it was even more fun. I really—we—there was just kind of—”

“You’re babbling again,” his father prompted softly. “Sort.”

“I can’t sort it,” Taekwoon answered immediately. “I don’t know what happened so I can’t—I don’t know the words for it. I’m still—”

“Why are you upset?” his father asked him simply.

“Because I think I might have hurt him,” Taekwoon said. “He just left, really suddenly, and—and I think it was bad.”

“Define ‘hurt’.”

“I—I don’t know. Scared, maybe? Made extremely uncomfortable?”

“And that bothers you? That you may have hurt him?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Taekwoon said. “A _lot._ ”

“Then why in God’s name did you call me, and not him?” his father asked.

“Because I don’t have his number!” Taekwoon said. “And then I just—called you.”

“Now, I’m obviously biased, but hear me out,” his father said. “You are not known for malicious intent as a general rule, although we both know you can be a bit... what’s the word your mother uses?”

“Uppity,” Taekwoon supplied immediately. 

“Right, uppity. You’re a bit uppity,” his father said. “It sounds like the context for this incident was not one in which you would find yourself being uppity.”

“Not at all.”

“I’m left to conclude that you did something that was not malicious, but perhaps rude, in which case my advice is the same as it was when you licked Kim Hwan’s birthday cake frosting before he’d finished the candles: apologize for your behavior and promise to do better. Then, _do better._ ”

“Dad, this was worse that the frosting,” Taekwoon said. “Much, much worse.”

“Criminal?”

“No!”

“Then how much worse than violating a poor boy’s birthday cake can you get? Son, I didn’t raise you to be that kind of monster.”

“Dad—”

“Apologize to him, Taekwoon. Apologize clearly, sincerely, and do what he asks to rebuild the trust you broke tonight, if that is indeed what happened. If a heartfelt and sincere apology is not enough to resolve the situation, then you may need to accept it as something that happened that simply doesn’t get fixed,” his father told him. “That’s part of being a responsible human being: admitting and acknowledging your errors, and accepting whatever consequences there are.”

“I hope it works,” Taekwoon said, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “I... really like him.”

“Then you’ll find out soon, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said. “I guess I will. Thanks Dad.”

“You’re welcome. I hope things work out. Your mother and I love you.”

“Is she awake?”

“Of course not, it’s after midnight,” his father snorted. “That woman spent thirty-five years raising you kids, she’s earned a good night’s sleep. I won’t wake her up unless you’re dying.”

“Right,” Taekwoon said. “Love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Woonie. Call me tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing.”

“Okay,” Taekwoon agreed. “Goodnight.”

They hung up; Taekwoon wasn’t sure how much longer he stared at his living room ceiling, but it was long enough to know he wasn’t going to get much sleep. The rest of the weekend seemed to just sort of blow through him; he probably watched TV, maybe read a book, possibly went for a walk—nothing important enough to distract him from his disastrous Friday night.

It wasn’t until Monday morning when he blanked out completely looking at the café menu that he even really noticed time passing. 

“...The usual?” the barista asked him hesitantly.

Taekwoon blinked at her.

“Four—no, five lattes and—”

“A seasonal tea,” she finished for him, smiling. “Lucky them! Any pastry today?”

Taekwoon scanned the display. The scones looked good, but they also didn’t look particularly... apology-y.

“I need to apologize to someone,” Taekwoon said, once again finding himself confiding in the barista. 

“Hmm,” she said before immediately proving his trust was not misplaced, “Either the lemon chiffon cake, or—well, actually? Here.” She glanced over her shoulder before pulling her phone out of her apron, flipping through apps until she pulled up a map. “My cousin works at this fancy ice cream place a few blocks over. You can customize what’s in it, it’s all fresh and stuff. A little pricey, but makes a bigger statement, you know?”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Taekwoon told her. She laughed and rang up his order; as soon as he picked everything up, Taekwoon took off for the ice cream shop. Hopefully it was open at 8:30am.

“Are... are you okay?” Hongbin asked Hakyeon very gingerly. “You look—”

“ _Awful_ ,” Jaehwan interrupted. Hongbin elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon said, attempting to smile. It came out more like a grimace, and both concerned parties sat down at his desk carefully.

“You’re... not, though,” Hongbin said. “What happened?”

Hakyeon’s mind blew through snapshots: galbi, collarbones, long fingers, a soft laugh, the clink of glass bottles, the faint smell of barbecue, a hint of cologne, a hand on his knee, a hand on his wrist, a look in soft eyes—

“I did something very stupid,” Hakyeon said. “I—I drank too much.” It wasn’t a lie. After all, he did both of those things.

“Wait, you drank? Where, at home?” Hongbin asked, confused. “You never drink.”

“He does sometimes,” Jaehwan corrected him. “Never enough to regret it though.”

“I have a lot of regrets,” Hakyeon said, putting his head down on his desk. “So, so many.” There was a moment of silence, then the sound of the chairs being pushed back from the desk, footsteps, and the door latching. He exhaled; finally, alone.

“Should I take notes?” Jaehwan asked softly. Hakyeon jerked his head up, annoyed.

“Why are you still here? Where’s Binnie?”

“Binnie has a long day of extremely easy IT requests ahead of him,” Jaehwan said. “You, however, look... not great.”

“I told you,” Hakyeon started, but Jaehwan shook his head.

“Hyung, give me a _little_ credit, please,” he said. “Just try telling me. I’m a great listener, I promise.”

“I know you are,” Hakyeon told him softly. “That’s why you’re good.” Jaehwan crossed his arms on the desk and rested his chin on them, quiet but attentive. Hakyeon fought with conflicting urges. On the one hand, he’d done something very stupid and it was entirely his own fault and own problem and he needed to just grow up and deal with it.

On the other—

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done because you liked someone?” Hakyeon asked him.

“Recently, or in my whole life?”

“Either.”

“In 10th grade I got a haircut to match the hair of an idol the girl I liked was a fan of,” he said. “It was a nightmare, I burned every photo and paid a witch to curse the image just in case I missed one.”

Hakyeon stared at him.

“More recently, I agreed to go to karaoke with a guy this last weekend and we accidentally ended up going for all-night six and a half hours with some light making out around 3am,” Jaehwan said. “But don’t get me wrong, it was a great time. Stupid, but delightful.”

“I... accidentally ended up at somebody’s apartment,” Hakyeon confessed quietly, voice heavy with shame.

“Wow, _nice!_ ” Jaehwan said with entirely too much enthusiasm. “Director Cha, getting some tail at last!”

“Excuse you, what do you mean ‘at last’?!” Hakyeon said, surprised by how offended he was.

“No, I mean—you could get it basically whenever you want it, but for some reason you’re always just like ‘nah I’m going to be a corporate slave and lead a life of complete celibacy’. I don’t think any of us really get it,” Jaehwan explained.

“How on earth would you know if I had or had not had sex?” Hakyeon said.

“You sleep under your desk,” Jaehwan pointed out. “Not a lot of room down there unless your biggest kink is just playing Sardines.”

“What?”

“You know, Sardines! The game you play in grade school? One person hides in a small space and everyone tries to find them and squeeze in, and the last person to find the group loses?”

“What about that is _kinky_?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehwan said. “It’s your hypothetical kink, you tell me.”

“I didn’t—we didn’t sleep together,” Hakyeon informed him. 

“Ooo, handjobs, fun.”

“We didn’t do that either!”

“...Heavy petting?”

“There was no sexual contact!” Hakyeon insisted. “We just—he—kind of almost... kissed.”

Jaehwan stared at him expectantly; as time passed in silence and Hakyeon added nothing whatsoever to the statement, he pulled a face.

“Are you seriously losing sleep over _almost_ kissing?” Jaehwan asked, clearly baffled. “Did you _want_ to kiss him?”

“ _Very much so,_ ” Hakyeon moaned, putting his head down on the desk again. “Because I’m _an idiot_.”

“If he wanted to kiss you... what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I should absolutely under no circumstances kiss him! There are a lot of—extenuating circumstances involved and I already took it way too far.”

Jaehwan sighed and picked up one of Hakyeon’s hands in both of his.

“Right up until that part, were you having a good time?”

“Yes.”

“You enjoyed yourself? It was fun?”

“Well, yeah, I—”

“And even when you almost kissed, you wanted to kiss, right?” Jaehwan pressed. “That’s called _being happy._ You’re supposed to roll with that.”

“I am happy,” Hakyeon said in a tone of pure misery.

“You’re not,” Jaehwan corrected him gently. “Don’t lie.”

Hakyeon sighed again. 

“Nothing about this will make me happy in the long term,” he said. “It’s all... instant gratification. A night of drinks taken too far is hardly... happiness.”

“But it could be a start,” Jaehwan pointed out. “You’re right, nothing is instant. It’s all sparks and flickers that you _feed with more_ and then happiness comes from _that._ If you felt even slightly better, it’s worth it.”

“I don’t think you understand the degree of risk involved here,” Hakyeon began to protest, but Jaehwan shook his head.

“Nothing in life is worth doing unless it brings you joy,” he said. “If you’re not happy, there’s no point. Why are you wasting precious time if you already know what you want?”

Hakyeon didn’t want to agree with him, but there was a distinct air of wisdom to the pep talk that only someone who exuded joy from every pore could have. From anyone else, it would have sounded incredibly naïve, but Jaehwan seemed to have ‘happiness and satisfaction’ on lock and everyone around him felt and, to some degree, absorbed it. He definitely felt like an expert on the subject.

Jaehwan straightened and glanced at the door in confusion.

“Wait, what time is it?” he asked. “Shouldn’t Hyukkie be here by now? And Taekwoon?”

“I have no idea,” Hakyeon said honestly. “Maybe Sanghyuk’s with Wonshik? They were doing a project together on Friday.”

“AWWWWW,” Jaehwan said extremely loudly. “Is _that_ who he meant? Aw, that’s so cute!”

“What... he meant?” Hakyeon asked, now the confused one. “When?”

“Oh, uh,” Jaehwan said, suddenly looking evasive. “The other day. Sometime.” Hakyeon narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously and closed one hand around Jaehwan’s wrist in a vice grip.

“No,” he said firmly. 

“What?” Jaehwan said, pulling uselessly at his arm. “No what?”

“ _Leave him alone, Lee Jaehwan,_ ” Hakyeon said in an iron tone. “Don’t make me fire you.”

“Can you fire me?”

“I will find a way,” Hakyeon informed him.

“Well—you don’t have to!” Jaehwan said, pulling again. “I didn’t realize you were so attached to him, but okay!” Hakyeon released him and Jaehwan took the opportunity to make for the door before Hakyeon could change his mind about giving him his freedom.

“Anyway, hyung,” he said just before darting out, “Think about it, okay? Just think.” He vanished and Hakyeon put his head down again and sighed. He was going to have to pull himself together if he intended to get through the work day.

Alternatively, he could go home “sick” and avoid the entire situation for another day.

It was tempting as hell.

Then his door opened again.

Taekwoon’s heart leaped into his throat when he saw Hakyeon collapsed on his desk; it was only the immediate lift that kept him from dropping everything he was holding and running over to check on him.

“Oh,” Hakyeon said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Taekwoon said back. Now that the panic had faded, the awkwardness weighed more heavily on him. He’d spent two days running through Friday night, and found he wasn’t any less confused about it than before, but he also couldn’t shake the fear that he’d done Hakyeon harm. It was precisely this fear that locked his joints in place and froze his jaw from any further movement. He had so many thoughts and words swirling in his head, but his anxiety caused a complete shut down.

Hakyeon smiled at him, and even though it looked tired and strained, it still sent a flutter through his chest.

“That all looks heavy,” Hakyeon told him, waving a hand over. “Sit down.” Taekwoon’s feet moved without him thinking about it; he settled into the chair and started separating out the drinks, silently passing Hakyeon his tea, then holding the new bag in both hands. Now that he was sitting there, he wondered if this ‘apology’ was just a phenomenally bad idea after all.

“So,” Hakyeon said, taking a deep breath, “about—”

“Wait,” Taekwoon blurted out, pushing the bag across the desk. Hakyeon blinked at him, surprised by the interruption. He opened it and pulled out the small to-go container, then looked up at Taekwoon, even more surprised.

“Ice cream?”

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon said, dropping his head as he felt the flush of shame bloom on his face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—you never—we—”

“Strawberry?” Hakyeon said softly, in wonder. Taekwoon looked up.

“You hate it?” he said, wincing.

“No, it’s—it’s my favorite,” he said, still soft. “Why...”

“I should have asked you,” Taekwoon said in a rush. “I should have just—said something. Anything. You didn’t—I thought... I don’t know, it was stupid.”

Hakyeon was still staring at the ice cream in his hands, expression unreadable. 

“I never meant to hurt you,” Taekwoon said, suddenly aware of how desperately he just wanted Hakyeon to _smile_ at him again. Hakyeon’s gaze snapped up, and something in his eyes softened.

“Oh, Taekwoon,” he said. “No, you didn’t—you didn’t hurt me, not at all. Is that what you think happened?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Taekwoon said. “Just—you left.”

“I—I should never have been there in the first place,” Hakyeon said. “I think I... misled you.”

Taekwoon’s stomach sank.

“Oh,” he said, unsure why this somehow felt worse. Okay, so he hadn’t hurt Hakyeon, but... did that mean Hakyeon never meant anything that way at all? Taekwoon was just smitten over a guy who had only ever intended to be his friend?

Ow.

“There are rules about this, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said. “I’m technically your superior, so—it’s just not even an option. We—we can’t.”

There was something about his wording that struck Taekwoon as odd; seconds before, it sounded like he meant there was never anything between them. Now, it sounded like... there was almost something, or could be something, _but_.

“I can’t kiss you because you’re sort of my boss?” Taekwoon asked, trying to keep track of the issue. Hakyeon turned as pink as his ice cream and looked down.

“Right,” Hakyeon said. “Right, you can’t—that.”

“And you can’t kiss me?”

“No kissing,” Hakyeon said, still a rosy shade. “That’s sexual harassment.”

“But—”

“No _but’s_ ,” Hakyeon said firmly. “It is what it is.”

“I have a lot of “but’s”,” Taekwoon informed him. 

“Well, they don’t really matter, so—”

“Did you want to?”

“What? Want to—”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“...It doesn’t matter,” Hakyeon said, detached. “It makes no difference whatsoever because we just... can’t.”

“It _does_ matter,” Taekwoon insisted. He reached out and put his hand on Hakyeon’s without thinking; why was he dismissing it all so flatly? Why was he trying to sweep the entire situation under a rug and never look at it again? “It matters, I thought—I was _worried about you._ ”

“...Why?”

“Why? _Why?_ ”

“Nevermind,” Hakyeon said immediately. “Forget it, it doesn’t matter, I—”

“I thought I _hurt you_ ,” Taekwoon repeated.

“You didn’t,” Hakyeon assured him. “I—did I hurt you?”

“I mean—kind of,” Taekwoon said. “But I don’t really care, so—”

“I’m sorry,” Hakyeon blurted out. “I’m so, _so_ sorry Taekwoon, really.”

“Did you want to come out with me?”

“Yes—”

“And my apartment?”

“I never should have—”

“Did you _want to come?_ ”

“Yes.”

“And—”

“ _Yes,_ ” Hakyeon said. “I did, and that’s _wrong._ ” For the first time, genuine feeling had started to bleed into his tone; Taekwoon could hear the shame, the frustration, the regret—but he also heard something that gave him a strange, galloping kind of hope:

Grief.

Whatever had happened—whatever was happening now—Hakyeon had wanted it differently at some point. Maybe he even wanted it to be different still. This enforced platonic structure bothered him to a point of loss.

“Let’s just—let’s just forget it all, okay?” Hakyeon said, dropping his head again. “Let’s go back to before. If—if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll find you a new department to—”

“I’m staying here,” Taekwoon said firmly. Hakyeon peered up at him through his eyelashes.

“...You still want to be... around me?”

“I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me,” Taekwoon informed him. Hakyeon was pink again, which just reminded Taekwoon of the gift. He pulled his hand back, realizing Hakyeon had never even attempted to shake him off.

“Eat your ice cream,” Taekwoon told him. “I only brought some for you; the others might try and steal it if they see.”

“You really didn’t have to do this,” Hakyeon said.

“Too late, I did it,” Taekwoon said. “Eat.” Hakyeon shot him an annoyed expression that he’d never seen before and even the knowledge that he’d bothered Hakyeon enough to earn it pleased him on some level. 

“I can’t eat _ice cream_ at _9:00am_.”

Taekwoon pulled the container out of Hakyeon’s hands, ripping the tiny spoon off the side and taking a scoop. He took a decent mini-spoonful and held it out.

“Eat,” he repeated. Hakyeon’s annoyed expression intensified; Taekwoon sighed, then ate the spoonful himself.

“Hey!” Hakyeon protested, reaching out for it. “You said it was mine!”

“I also said someone was gonna steal it,” Taekwoon reminded him, keeping the spoon tucked in his cheek. 

“I didn’t know I had to protect it from _you!_ ”

“Now you know,” Taekwoon said. He was surprised when Hakyeon reached across the desk and pulled the spoon out at the same time as jerking the container from his hand. He took a spoonful and immediately consumed it with a triumphant expression—which crumpled seconds later as he squawked and grabbed at his head.

“Ow, ow!”

“What?”

“Brain freeze!” Hakyeon said. “ _Ow!_ ”

Taekwoon laughed; he was so _cute._ Hakyeon shot him a glare of betrayal that delighted him.

“Stop enjoying this,” he demanded. “It’s very inappropriate.”

“That spoon was in my mouth,” Taekwoon deadpanned. Hakyeon looked like he was considering violence. Before he could act on it, Taekwoon added softly with just a hint of smugness, “How does it taste?”

Hakyeon stood up; the suddenness of the movement made Taekwoon flinch. But when hellfire did not rain down upon him, he risked a peek at Hakyeon’s face.

It was twisted in guilt and shame again.

“...Please go.”

“What—”

“You can come back later,” Hakyeon said, “just—I just need some space. Time. Both.”

“Are you okay?” Taekwoon asked carefully.

“...I’ll be fine,” Hakyeon said. “Go.”

Taekwoon collected his drink and left without a fuss; something heavy had settled on the room again, and it wasn’t until the door latched behind him with a click that he realized Hakyeon had not actually answered his question.

Hongbin came back to check on him less than an hour later; Hakyeon had eaten his ice cream with increasing guilt. On the one hand, he prided himself on his strong sense of ethics and morality—it was part of the reason he was so good at what he did. Hakyeon always had the company’s best interests in mind, but with every bite of strawberry, he felt like cracks were forming on his surface.

In stark contrast, Hongbin was beaming. Hakyeon raised a questioning eyebrow.

“What?” Hongbin said, a touch defensive as he sat down with a distinct bounce.

“I haven’t seen you smile in a couple of weeks,” Hakyeon informed him.

“Really? Huh,” Hongbin said. When Hakyeon just continued to stare at him questioningly, he shrugged. “There was a whole bouquet of flowers on my desk this morning.”

“What!? From who?!”

“I don’t know, there wasn’t a card. I guess they got the wrong office?” Hongbin said. “Pretty nice flowers though. Really bright colors.” He seemed to be trying to downplay how pleased he was by something as oddly sweet as flowers, but Hakyeon got the impression it had started his day off with a better mood than he’d been in for weeks.

Hakyeon was suspicious, but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin Hongbin’s day with further questioning. 

“So what brings you back around?” Hakyeon asked him, returning to the stacks of papers he’d left out Friday night with the intention of coming back. Thank god he’d thought to label things with post-its first.

“I was just thinking about the network engineer position,” Hongbin said. “I think a know a guy who would be good for it; I told him to apply when the ad goes up, but I thought I’d give you a heads up.” 

“What’s the name?” Hakyeon asked, finally spotting his post-its. “I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

“Gong Chansik,” Hongbin said. “He’s good, I met him at a conference. Really creative. We had a hands-on workshop and he had a really interesting approach.”

“Sounds good,” Hakyeon said. “I’m guessing you two got along pretty well?”

“Yeah, we hang out,” Hongbin said with a shrug. 

“Wow, you leave your house for him?” Hakyeon teased. Hongbin turned red.

“Well, I mean—we play on the same gaming crew,” Hongbin amended. “Voice chat.”

“Friendship is friendship,” Hakyeon said with a smile. “The medium doesn’t matter so much.”

“Exactly!” Hongbin said, leaning forward in his chair. “Exactly, just because we’re not in the same room doesn’t mean we don’t really know each other!”

Hakyeon nodded, still smiling; Hongbin worked too much and anyone who spent any time with him noticed fairly quickly that he didn’t have that many people close to him; it was hard to say if it was just an introverted nature, or if he just didn’t care. Personally, Hakyeon put his money on Hongbin being a bit shy and awkward. Regardless, it was one of the reasons why his friendship felt so... important.

“Gong Chansik,” Hakyeon said. “Got it. Might as well have him send me his resume and things, if we can skip the application screenings that would actually save us all a lot of time.”

“Awesome!” Hongbin said brightly. “I’ll tell him!” He seemed about to bounce out of his seat again, but paused.

“Hyung,” Hongbin said. “You... are okay, right?”

“Yes Binnie,” Hakyeon told him warmly. “Thank you, but I’m fine. Really.”

Hongbin looked at him in silence for a moment, before nodding.

“If you need to talk,” he said cautiously, “you know I’m here, right?”

“I do,” Hakyeon said, reaching out to pat the back of his hand. “But I promise, I’m good.”

Hongbin, relieved, left with a spring in his step; Hakyeon’s smile fell as soon as the door clicked shut. He, of course, wasn’t fine, but like hell was he ever going to burden one of his hard-working friends with something as trivial as... whatever it was that was happening between him and Taekwoon.

As if thinking about Taekwoon was enough to summon him, there was a soft knock on the door before it opened to reveal first Sanghyuk, then the devil called Taekwoon.

A really cute, sheepish looking devil.

“We brought food,” Sanghyuk said, lifting two bags of take out. Taekwoon’s gaze was glued on one bag as if breaking eye contact would make it disappear. Was he _ever_ not hungry?

“Wow, what a treat,” Hakyeon said with forced brightness.

“Not really,” Sanghyuk said as he started laying out containers on Hakyeon’s desk. “Taekwoon-hyung used the company card.”

“It’s not the _company’s_ card,” Taekwoon protested in a slight whine. “It’s my _dad’s_ card.”

“Is that an improvement?” Sanghyuk asked hypothetically. Taekwoon elbowed him—only to wince and pull his arm back. Sanghyuk looked at him, utterly unperturbed by what was apparently an inconsequential attempt at an attack. Sulky, Taekwoon sat down and started passing out chopsticks in silence. Hakyeon wasn’t particularly hungry, but it felt like before he even had time to tell them, Taekwoon had placed a loaded plate in front of him.

“Why are you always feeding people?” Hakyeon asked him with some irritation. Taekwoon stared at him without even bothering to reply, bringing food to his own mouth with such speed Hakyeon wasn’t even totally sure when he’d opened it all. Sanghyuk looked at Taekwoon expectantly, but when nothing appeared, he shot Hakyeon A Look.

Hakyeon pretended like he hadn’t noticed.

“How was your weekend Sanghyuk?” he asked in attempt to reroute the conversation. “Jaehwan was telling me about his this morning.”

Sanghyuk choked on his drink.

“He did?!” Sanghyuk asked in barely masked alarm. “W-what did he do?”

“He went to karaoke, of course,” Hakyeon said. “With someone.” It wasn’t like this was totally unheard of for him; Jaehwan loved spending time with people. Karaoke was a great way to have fun in a controlled setting, comfortable. It was something of an honor the first time he asked you to go with him.

“Sounds fun,” Sanghyuk said with forced cheer. Hakyeon watched him in pensive silence until Sanghyuk met his eyes squarely.

“He also said they made out,” he said blandly. Sanghyuk’s expression didn’t change, but the complete non-reaction was even more of a give-away than the panic.

“Friendly guy, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said with as much innocence as he could muster.

“You still haven’t said what _you_ did,” Hakyeon reminded him. Sanghyuk’s panic finally became so overt even Taekwoon had noticed; he was leaning forward to see Sanghyuk’s face, looking very interested.

“Uh,” Sanghyuk said. “I think I went grocery shopping. Yeah.”

“You went grocery shopping for an entire weekend?”

“It’s a big grocery store,” Sanghyuk said.

“Where is it?” Taekwoon asked in a tone that suggested he actually believed Sanghyuk and would like to see the store himself.

“I don’t remember.”

“You spent two days there and you don’t remember where it was?”

“I got lost.”

“You have a smartphone.”

“Battery died.”

“Look,” Hakyeon said, “if you’re going to lie to me, fine, but at least put a little effort into your cover story.” Sanghyuk clearly thought he’d gotten away with it, so Hakyeon added a final trap: “He’s not a very good singer anyway.”

“He’s _amazing_ , what the hell are you—” Sanghyuk shot back immediately, only to snap his jaw shut when Hakyeon smiled at him.

“You would know,” Hakyeon said. He made a mental note to revisit ‘do not corrupt my intern’ with Jaehwan at some point.

“What did _you_ do?” Sanghyuk said, desperately hoping to derail. Hakyeon glanced at Taekwoon; as soon as their eyes met, they both looked away. Hakyeon knew he was blushing.

“Nothing special,” he said lightly. “Had dinner, mostly just relaxed at home.”

“Liar,” Sanghyuk said. “You never relax.”

“Well, I tried,” Hakyeon informed him with irritation.

“What about you?” Sanghyuk asked Taekwoon. He blinked slowly.

“I don’t remember,” Taekwoon said. “I think I just watched TV?”

“You _think_?”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said with a nod. “I’ve been rewatching ‘Coffee Prince’.”

“Aww,” Hakyeon said without meaning to, endeared.

“So nobody here did anything interesting or worthy of further discussion,” Sanghyuk established firmly. “Good.”

“I sincerely hope that from here on out, we all continue to do nothing,” Hakyeon said, looking at Sanghyuk pointedly. “It would be a terrible shame to have something to discuss, Han Sanghyuk.”

“Awful,” Sanghyuk agreed, attempting to sink in his chair as if that would make him smaller somehow. “Avoid at all costs.”

Taekwoon patted the top of his head in an oddly fond manner.

“You’re a good intern,” he informed Sanghyuk, who seemed equally confused by the gesture.

“Thanks?”

Hakyeon’s desk phone rang; he stared at in confusion before picking up. Usually people just texted his work phone—nobody liked _calling._

“Cha Hakyeon,” he answered.

“Hakyeon-ah,” Mr. Jung said, “I need you in my office immediately. I’ve been informed of a rather serious situation. Bring Taekwoon, if he’s there.”

“He is,” Hakyeon said as his blood ran cold. It was very rare for Mr. Jung to sound so... heavy. “I’ll bring him.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Jung said. “Please don’t tell anyone, it’s a matter of the utmost secrecy.”

“Understood sir,” Hakyeon said. He waited for the dial tone to ring before hanging up; he looked at Taekwoon in what he was sure bordered somewhat on fear.

“What?” Taekwoon asked, reading his expression instantly. 

“Mr. Jung needs to see me,” Hakyeon said. The words seemed to come out of his mouth on autopilot. “He said you should come too.”

“ _Me?!_ ” Taekwoon squeaked. “I’m useless!”

“He has an excellent point there,” Sanghyuk said with a knowing nod. Hakyeon stood up and brushed off his shaking hands; it wouldn’t do for Sanghyuk to notice how rattled he was. Was this it? Did Mr. Jung find out and decide to remove all temptations from his heir’s line of sight? Had he run away too late after all?

In the roughly three weeks Taekwoon had been floating around the building bothering people, his father had summoned him exactly twice: once as a general check-in about a week and two departments through his tour, and the second time when he’d gotten to face time with Minyul unexpectedly just a bit after lunch.

This didn’t sound like a social visit.

“What did he say?” Taekwoon asked softly in the elevator. Hakyeon was rubbing his hands together like they were cold, then shaking them out, over and over again. 

“He said it’s really serious,” Hakyeon said. “I’ve—I’ve never heard him like that before. Usually he’s very—”

“Smothering,” Taekwoon supplied.

“ _Warm_ ,” Hakyeon corrected. He shook his hands out again and stared at the digital display over the door, counting off floors as they headed to the very top penthouse office. 

Taekwoon caught Hakyeon’s hand with both of his, holding it steady; he could feel Hakyeon shaking.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Hakyeon commented.

“Should I stop?” Taekwoon asked, prepared to let him go.

“I didn’t say that,” Hakyeon answered in a very small voice. “I mean—yes, you should. This is the CEO, we have to be professional.”

“Okay,” Taekwoon said, releasing his hand with a disappointed sigh.

“Later,” Hakyeon said absently, so much so that Taekwoon wasn’t sure he knew he’d said it out loud. The elevator doors slid open before he had the opportunity to ask, and Hakyeon straightened with a quick adjustment of his tie. His pace down the hallway to the enormous oak doors was brisk.

Hakyeon paused as if he was going to knock, but Taekwoon had spent an entire lifetime barging into his father’s offices and pushing it open was a habit so deeply ingrained it would be nearly impossible to undo. The door didn’t even creak; the hinges were well-cared for.

“Hi Dad,” Taekwoon said.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jung,” Hakyeon said politely, bowing. 

“Taekwoon, Hakyeon, thank you for rushing up here. Please have a seat,” his father said, gesturing them to a sofa in the center of the office across from some plush chairs. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”

“No thank you, I’m—”

“Did you get more latte pods for the coffee machine?” Taekwoon interrupted. His father had the audacity to sigh, as if Taekwoon was whining. 

He wasn’t whining, the coffee machines downstairs just couldn’t do lattes like the pod machine could. Obviously.

“They’re in the cupboard underneath,” he said, gesturing. “Hakyeon, are you sure you’re—”

“Fine, yes,” Hakyeon said immediately. “Sir, you said this was serious?”

Taekwoon glanced at them over his shoulder as he fiddled with the machine; there was a measure of displeasure in his face that wasn’t usually present. Normally his father had an air of congeniality.

Not so much just then. 

“I just got notice that there’s been a security breach,” his father said, pinching between his eyes. Taekwoon frowned; that wasn’t good. It only took a little more searching around to find what he was looking for, and he dumped the instant hot cocoa packet in an extra cup and added some hot water, mixing it and carrying both mugs over. He sat next to Hakyeon on the sofa rather than on a chair next to his father, but passed the cocoa over the low coffee table.

“That sounds like something for... well, Security,” Hakyeon said.

“It will be, depending on what you tell me to do here,” Mr. Jung said. “Ah, thank you Woonie.”

“I’m not following.”

“The breach is significant,” Mr. Jung explained. “At first we thought it was one of those mass cyber-attacks, but Lee Hongbin informs me there was no such hack that he can determine.”

“What do you mean by ‘significant’?” Hakyeon asked, leaning in. “Hacking attempts usually come for financial or personal data.”

“That’s the problem, Hakyeon,” Mr. Jung explained. “It wasn’t hacking. It was leaked.”

“ _Leaked?_ ” Hakyeon repeated, astonished. “From inside the company?”

“That’s awful,” Taekwoon said.

“It gets worse,” his father sighed. “Hongbin found the source.”

“How is that worse?” Hakyeon asked.

“It’s Lee Jaehwan,” Mr. Jung informed him. For a moment, all three lapsed into total silence: Taekwoon was shocked, his father looked to be battling a complex mixture of emotions, and Hakyeon—

“It was not Lee Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said with iron conviction. “Jaehwan would never compromise the company, nor any single person within it, to such a degree.”

“You’re sure about that?” Mr. Jung pressed. “Are you _absolutely_ sure?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said.

“He has a history of acting outside boundaries,” Mr. Jung pointed out.

“Accidentally,” Hakyeon reminded him with a stern finger. “He never did any of it on purpose, nor was any of it maliciously intended. In fact, to date, all of his accidents have resulted in a net gain for the company in whatever department he happens to be working in.”

“So you think there’s a possibility he isn’t—”

“No possibility, _certainty_ ,” Hakyeon interrupted. “I know my people. Jaehwan doesn’t have this in him, not even a drop.”

Taekwoon’s father leaned back and let out a very heavy sigh of relief.

“I was _praying_ you would say that,” he said. “I really didn’t want to think of Jaehwanie as being capable of this, but I wasn’t sure.”

“What exactly happened?” Taekwoon asked; he wasn’t sure if he’d missed it, or just didn’t understand.

“I don’t know what the initial incident was, but someone using Lee Jaehwan’s login credentials accessed a series of different department databanks. It’s not entirely clear what was taken, but everything from reception all the way up to the board got... hits, yes, that’s what Hongbin called them,” his father explained with the air of someone who only recently understood themselves.

“Good lord,” Hakyeon gasped. 

“Hongbin is looking into it further, but he said it seemed to have started with a password reset request on tweetbook,” Mr. Jung said.

“You mean Twitter?” Hakyeon asked.

“Or Facebook?” Taekwoon followed.

“The one where I watch Minyulie,” Mr. Jung clarified.

“Instagram,” Taekwoon informed Hakyeon. He nodded his understanding.

“I’m guessing you’ll need to defend your decision to the board?” Hakyeon asked Mr. Jung. 

“I will,” he confirmed. “I obviously believe you, but any evidence he wasn’t involved will help me. We’ve already had an emergency response conference, and a more in-depth one is scheduled for Thursday,” he explained. “Whatever you can get me by then.”

“I’ll get on it immediately,” Hakyeon promised. “I will need some help though.”

“Whoever and whatever you need,” Mr. Jung agreed. “You can even take Taekwoon if you think he’ll be of any use.”

“ _Dad._ ”

“No offense meant, Woonie. I’m just saying.”

“Taekwoon has been very helpful to me,” Hakyeon said, oddly defensive on Taekwoon’s behalf.

“If you say so,” Mr. Jung said in a tone that suggested he didn’t buy it. “Well, I’ll let you both get on this; I’ve got some more damage control to do myself. Be choosy about who you tell, this is still an inside job.”

“Understood,” Hakyeon said firmly. “I—we won’t let you down, sir.”

“I know you won’t, Hakyeon,” he said warmly. Taekwoon got the distinct impression that Hakyeon was one of the people on his father’s list of favorite employees; it wasn’t a very long list, but whenever he met someone on it, he kind of saw where his father was coming from.

With Hakyeon, he understood arguably too well.

“Let’s go,” Hakyeon said, briskly making for the door while waving Taekwoon along after him. “We’ve got to call in some favors.”

Taekwoon immediately followed him, and missed the curious expression on his father’s face as he watched them leave.

Hakyeon had dealt with a fair few disasters in his career, but none of them seemed even remotely as severe as this one. Privacy and security were at the top of the list for primary concerns, and a breach could cost the company hundreds of millions to clean up and cover their asses. They’d have to divert precious resources to reaching out to clients and assuring them that the leak had not compromised them, or offer compensation if it had.

But before any of that could happen, they had to find the spy, and Hakyeon was determined to solve it quickly and quietly.

He returned to his office with Taekwoon on his heels to find Sanghyuk still in the office, kept company by Jaehwan.

“I just saved your ass,” Hakyeon informed Jaehwan. “You owe me big time.”

“What?” Jaehwan asked, baffled. “Why?”

“Ask him,” Hakyeon said, gesturing to Taekwoon. He called up Hongbin first.

“I just met with Mr. Jung. He told me about the breach,” Hakyeon said.

“I didn’t know about it until lunch,” Hongbin said. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I swear.”

“Oh Binnie, no, of course you weren’t,” Hakyeon assured him. “Don’t worry. I just need you to come up here so we can go over it. I don’t believe the suspect in question—”

“Had _anything_ to do with it,” Hongbin interrupted. Hakyeon felt a wave of relief that he wouldn’t have to convince Hongbin; it would be clear to anyone with the slightest knowledge of Jaehwan that this wasn’t something he would do, but depending on the evidence, Hongbin may have been conflicted.

“Agreed,” Hakyeon said. “Help me prove it.”

“Roger,” Hongbin said. “Oh, we should get Kim Wonshik in on this too.”

“Wonshik? Why?”

“He’s a social media wizard,” Hongbin reminded him. “He has a better understanding of the platforms and their features than I do. I don’t use it, unless I’m looking _at code_ I couldn’t tell you jack about what it does.”

“Good point,” Hakyeon said. “Alright, let’s bring him in. Do you want to, or should I?”

“I pass by his desk on my way up, I’ll flag him.”

“Good. Jaehwan is already here, with Taekwoon and Sanghyuk.”

“Big group,” Hongbin commented.

“Big problem,” Hakyeon reminded him.

“Fair. Alright, see you in ten,” Hongbin said before hanging up. Hakyeon put his phone down and sighed; this was a mess. Every time he ran over what he knew in his head, it sunk in a little deeper how utterly screwed they were if this wasn’t resolved quickly.

“I would _never_ —" Jaehwan shouted suddenly, expression dark and twisted. Taekwoon held his hands up defensively.

“I didn’t say you did!” he protested. “I’m just telling you what he told us!”

“Mr. Jung absolutely doesn’t believe you had any part in it,” Hakyeon assured him. “Sit down, let’s go over this quietly, okay?”

“I love this company,” Jaehwan said, sinking into a chair. “I would never, ever—”

“We know that,” Hakyeon said gently. “We believe you, honest.”

“We’ll get it figured out,” Sanghyuk said, putting a hand on his back. Jaehwan was visibly upset, a rare sight in and of itself, but he did seem to steady a bit with Sanghyuk’s touch.

“My dad really likes you,” Taekwoon told Jaehwan. Hakyeon smiled; Taekwoon definitely didn’t know what effect that statement would have on Jaehwan, but it hit the mark regardless. He had an uncanny ability to say the slightly odd, but also sincere things that most people stepped around.

“We’re all on your side here,” Hakyeon continued. “Relax. Let us handle this together.”

“The director of HR, the boss’s kid, and an intern are going to save me,” Jaehwan said flatly.

“Plus the head of IT and the social media specialist,” Hakyeon informed him. “Binnie and Wonshik are on their way up now.”

“They know?” Jaehwan asked, sounding small. Sanghyuk’s hand began to pat gently.

“Hongbin already knew, but he also knew it wasn’t you,” Hakyeon told him. Jaehwan didn’t reply, only dropped his head. They were spared from awkward silence by the arrival of Hongbin and Wonshik; Wonshik made sure to latch the door behind himself—and lock it.

“Alright,” Hongbin said. “Where do we start?”

“You have the most complete picture I believe,” Hakyeon told him. 

“Okay,” Hongbin said, looking slightly nervous. He proceeded to explain how someone had gained access to Jaehwan’s main company account; from there, it had been child’s play to access nearly every department and get into confidential and sensitive databanks.

“Wait, why do you have access to so many things?” Taekwoon asked Jaehwan.

“I cover for people all over the company,” Jaehwan explained. “If I’m in accounts, I need access to accounts. If I’m in sales, I need access to sales.”

“It’s easier to give his account ongoing access rather than create new IDs every time he subs,” Hongbin explained. “In hindsight, rescinding access once you finished probably would have been prudent.”

“Yeah, but you never know where I’m going to be and you have a lot to do,” Jaehwan said. “If I called you every time I needed something—”

“It would never end,” Hongbin agreed.

“Well, we have to figure out what to do from now on, because this cannot happen again,” Hakyeon pointed out.

“Do you know how they got in?” Hongbin asked Wonshik. “It was an Instagram thing.”

“Okay, this is the part _I_ don’t get,” Wonshik said with a sigh. “We strongly discourage employees to use their corporate IDs with social media. If they do, they have to have a password generated by admin, so usually just a random string of mixed characters. People forget them constantly and send reset requests all the time. Just sending the request doesn’t really ring any alarms.”

“You use yours for _Instagram?_ ” Hakyeon asked Jaehwan.

“No!” Jaehwan said. “I mean—yes, sort of. I have an account that I let people tag me in from work events. My private ID is personal. I basically never log into the corporate one, there’s nothing on it.”

“That’s great,” Taekwoon said. When everyone looked at him in confusion, he added, “That makes it obvious it wasn’t you.”

“Good point,” Sanghyuk acknowledged.

“Anyway,” Wonshik said, “the weird part is that people usually just email admin and then choose ‘reset password’ and go from there. _This_ request was sent to _your_ email via ‘I forgot my password’ link.”

As he watched them lay out the details, making connections and positing theories about how the cascade of events had happened, Hakyeon felt an odd sort of bubbling pride. In situations like these, it would have been easy to just take the matter at face value and never question it. Instead, they were trusting their instincts and the word of their friend, and figuring out what happened to ensure his safety at the company. Everyone liked Jaehwan, sure, but they were sticking their necks out for him in a very serious way.

It was nice to have confirmation that he’d made good choices in hiring and promotions in order to end up with the team in front of him.

Taekwoon turned away from the conversation to look at him, then tilted his head questioningly. Hakyeon shook his head and smiled, dismissing Taekwoon’s concern. He was hardly the priority here; whatever Taekwoon wanted to say could wait.

“What it comes down to is this,” Hongbin said, his voice breaking through Hakyeon’s thoughts, “we have to make sure this doesn’t happen again, and make sure whatever damage has been done is contained.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehwan said in a very small voice. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Wonshik assured him. “Someone took advantage of you, that’s not on you.” Jaehwan nodded, but as Wonshik’s words sunk in, Hakyeon had a sudden realization.

“Wait, hold on,” he said. “They took advantage—so they know him?”

“They’d have to, right?” Wonshik pointed out. “Jaehwan-ah is clearly the target; he has reach.”

“But nobody would know that unless they know him,” Sanghyuk said with a frown. “It’s not like his position is well-known, even within the company.”

“What _do_ you do?” Taekwoon asked.

“Whatever people need,” Jaehwan said. “I’m just helping out here and there.”

“Which, as Wonshik said, is something only people internally would know,” Hakyeon reminded them. Hongbin heaved a frustrated growling sort of sigh, putting his face in his hands. Wonshik lifted a hand towards him before pulling it back without touching him. 

“I hate what that means,” Sanghyuk said.

“An inside job; whoever did this—” 

“I know them,” Hakyeon said softly, interrupting Wonshik. The room went quiet, and Hakyeon crossed his arms tightly. There was a sick weight in his chest as the guilt settled heavily on his shoulders. “I’ve met them. Maybe even hired them.”

“This isn’t on you either,” Hongbin said sharply. “We blame the culprit. No one else.”

Hakyeon barely heard it; he’d started running through the list in his head of the people he’d known for years. Faces, names, short profiles, achievements, reprimands, every single interaction—one of them had done this. One of them. He had to find them, before they could harm anyone else.

Hakyeon was crumbling.

Taekwoon took a quick glance around the room; everyone was staring at him with varying degrees of sympathy, but none of them moved from their places, or made any sort of supportive statement; they just watched as he visibly collapsed inwards on himself.

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and placing a hand on Hakyeon’s shoulder blade. Nothing invasive, nothing that would intrude on his space—just a hand, a reminder he was there. Taekwoon wasn’t sure that his presence brought any comfort whatsoever now, but he didn’t know how else to tell Hakyeon he wasn’t alone.

Hakyeon didn’t shrug him off instantly, at least.

“Let’s—make a plan,” Sanghyuk suggested. “Hyung, do you have... any idea who—”

“ _No_ ,” Hakyeon shot back with such a strong note of hurt that Sanghyuk immediately softened.

“I didn’t mean—I know you don’t know, really. I just thought you would have an idea of who has the skills required for this,” he clarified gently.

“We don’t need a list right this second,” Wonshik added. 

“I’m going to run some scripts and see if I can figure out which terminal was used,” Hongbin said. “It might take me a while though.”

“There are hundreds of users,” Wonshik pointed out.

“I know,” Hongbin said. “Like I said, it’ll take me a while.”

“I’ll try and think back too,” Jaehwan said. “They know me too, right? Otherwise why would they pick me? So I’ve met them.”

“You make a list, hyung can make a list, we’ll cross check it with whatever the terminal search turns up,” Sanghyuk said. 

“What can I do?” Wonshik asked.

“Watch our socials like a _hawk_ ,” Hongbin said. “Get with admin. At the absolute minimum, no password changes should be issued today.”

“Got it,” Wonshik said. “Regroup before six?”

“Might as well all put in our overtime requests now,” Sanghyuk said.

“Approved,” Hakyeon said, still sounding clipped. “Let’s get this done.”

As his office cleared, Hakyeon stepped away from Taekwoon to behind his desk. He settled in his chair as the door latched behind Sanghyuk; Taekwoon looked between them, unsure of whether he had been dismissed as well. He certainly hadn’t been given a job. It seemed better to just sit down in the chair across from Hakyeon and wait.

Hakyeon put his head in his hands and said nothing.

If pressed, Taekwoon would guess they stayed that way for about five minutes, but truthfully it could have been ten or more and he wouldn’t have known; he was too busy hyper-focusing on Hakyeon, and the way Hakyeon’s behavior seemed distinctly off.

“Are you going to say something, or are you staying hands-off for this?” Hakyeon said abruptly. He hadn’t lifted his face.

“I’m waiting,” Taekwoon informed him softly.

“For what?”

“For you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?”

“What’s—why? Why are you just—here?”

“Should I go?” Taekwoon asked softly, unable to quite hide the hurt in his voice. Hakyeon’s face finally lifted, showing an expression that was a mixture of things in pieces too complex for him to fully read. The only thing he knew was that it wasn’t happy, or even resigned. He looked... lost.

“Do you want to go?” he returned. Taekwoon shook his head sharply; of course not. For one thing, he was still fairly useless by most measures, and at least by staying and following Hakyeon’s direction he could feel like he was doing something. More importantly, with everyone else off doing things, who was going to help Hakyeon?

Especially since he clearly needed support.

Taekwoon reached his hand across the desk, holding it out palm-up, and waited. Hakyeon’s eyes darted from his fingers to his face, nervous; Taekwoon used his other hand to catch Hakyeon’s and hold it between both of his. He didn’t say anything; words seemed a bit dangerous just then, and all he really wanted to make sure of was that Hakyeon knew he wasn’t going to judge a little bit of struggle.

“...I don’t know.”

Taekwoon tilted his head; Hakyeon closed his eyes and repeated himself.

“I don’t know how I could have prevented this,” he explained. “I—I usually have something to take away. Red flags, points of improvement, alternative options. Here? What should I have seen that I didn’t?”

“We don’t even know who did it yet,” Taekwoon pointed out. 

“I know, but I can’t—”

“Stop,” Taekwoon told him, quiet but firm. “We all need you to pull this off.”

Hakyeon opened his eyes.

“We?” he asked quietly.

Taekwoon wasn’t sure how to answer that question, or even if he should, so instead he opted for silence and keeping Hakyeon’s hand between his. As the silence continued to hang between them, heavy but somehow comfortable, Hakyeon’s free hand came to rest on top of his.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” he said, pulling away completely.

Taekwoon nodded; he rubbed his palms together, missing Hakyeon’s warmth.

As the day progressed, various people would drop in with updates; considering the nature of the issue, it seemed prudent to keep things verbal rather than written just in case the breach had not been completely contained. Hakyeon was quite sure that it had, but Hongbin insisted he wasn’t perfect and couldn’t guarantee things were fully on lock. It seemed almost unnecessarily humble of him.

Noon rolled by so quickly Hakyeon felt like he hadn’t even blinked yet, then one, then one-thirty—two-thirds of the way through his extensive employee records, Taekwoon cleared his throat pointedly, pulling his attention away from the search. 

“You need to eat,” Taekwoon informed him.

“I’m fine, I have a granola bar,” Hakyeon said dismissively, turning back to his monitor.

“ _I_ need to eat,” Taekwoon replied.

“Alright,” Hakyeon said mildly. “See you in an hour.”

Taekwoon made a huffing sound that Hakyeon was beginning to recognize as one of put-upon frustration; Taekwoon reached over the desk and turned off the monitor with one long finger.

“Hey!” Hakyeon snapped.

“ _We need to eat,_ ” Taekwoon insisted, swatting away Hakyeon’s hand when he tried to turn the screen back on. A few more seconds of trying only resulted in a half-hearted slap fight that ended with Hakyeon pushing away from his desk so quickly Taekwoon jumped back in surprise.

“The safety of this company and _everyone in it_ depends on this investigation,” Hakyeon said firmly. “I can’t waste time—”

“Your brain needs glucose to function smoothly, and that means eating food,” Taekwoon said. “You need regular meals to think straight.”

“Since when are you a nutritionist?”

“I’m not, but my sister is,” he shot back. “Nobody misses a meal under her watch, and I think she’d end me if I let it happen under mine. We’re getting a very late lunch and I don’t care if you like it.”

Hakyeon wanted to be annoyed, but before he could express it, his stomach took the opportunity to growl so loudly he suspected it could be heard from the hallway. He put both his hands over his front and flushed, embarrassed. He braced himself for a round of derision.

Taekwoon snorted, then reached a hand out over the desk.

“See?” he said. “You need food. Let’s go.” 

Hakyeon wasn’t sure why his hand just naturally found itself in Taekwoon’s (something about those long, elegant fingers just seemed impossible to resist), but before he had a chance to react and withdraw, Taekwoon closed his hand around Hakyeon’s in a prince-like-clasp and stepped sideways so he could guide him around the desk by their linked hands. Never in his life had Hakyeon been _led_ like this, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart fluttered by the gesture—or pull his hand away once he was around the desk. Taekwoon seemed not to notice and just continued leading him along towards the door; Hakyeon finally got a hold of himself and pulled back.

Taekwoon stopped walking immediately and turned back to look at him with a confused expression.

“Hakyeon?”

“I can walk by myself,” Hakyeon mumbled, the words clumsy on his tongue. Why was his heart pounding so much? What was he, eleven? Since when had _hand-holding_ been such an intimate feeling?

“Okay?” Taekwoon said, still confused. “Let’s go then?”

“Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“That. My hand.”

Now Taekwoon was flushing, just across his nose and the tips of his ears. Hakyeon instantly wondered if it ever spread to other parts of him.

“You have nice hands,” Taekwoon said very quietly while avoiding eye contact. As if it would somehow get him out of the conversation entirely, Taekwoon opened the door and rushed out before Hakyeon could confront him on it. Hakyeon jogged after him, unwilling to let the issue drop without further information.

“Elaborate,” Hakyeon said insistently as he caught up in the hallway, grabbing Taekwoon by the elbow.

“Can’t,” Taekwoon said tightly.

“Try,” Hakyeon said in response. Taekwoon stopped moving so suddenly Hakyeon nearly collided with him; instead he jerked back just in time to catch an extremely nervous expression dart across his face.

“...You get upset when I do,” Taekwoon informed him softly with a twinge of something in his voice that Hakyeon wasn’t sure how to identify. His words sunk in slowly, triggering a replay of the multiple moments when Hakyeon really, _really_ should have stopped things.

Maybe asking for more wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.

“...Lunch, then,” Hakyeon said with a forced smile. He wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat, right behind his heart.

At any given moment, Taekwoon felt like he was in the middle of a highly difficult juggling routine: work was a heavy club that he always only barely managed to catch, his family was one that he wanted to hold more often, friends came and went so quickly he kept thinking he’d dropped, and then suddenly in the middle of all of that, Hakyeon slapped down hard in his palm with a ‘thwack’.

The worst part was that he was fully prepared to let every other club hit the ground if it meant he could hold on to this one, and equally aware that it would never ever happen.

He watched Hakyeon pick at his lunch with a gnawing feeling in his chest. Why didn’t this man just _eat_? He’d tried to sneak away with an egg salad sandwich as though that was in any way a sufficient lunch. It was only through not-so-subtle nagging that Taekwoon got him to buy an actual hot meal from the cafeteria, a proper plate of food.

He’d eaten four bites in about ten minutes; Taekwoon was nearly finished, but Hakyeon kept poking with his fork, then losing will before lifting a bite.

“You don’t like it?” Taekwoon asked at last, unable to ignore it any longer.

“What? Oh, no, it’s fine,” Hakyeon said, poking again.

“I’ll get you something else,” Taekwoon said, beginning to stand. “What do you want?”

“No, it’s okay!” Hakyeon said quickly, gesturing him back to his seat. “Really, it’s. Delicious.”

Taekwoon stared at him; he looked pointedly at the virtually full plate, then back at Hakyeon’s face, daring him to continue.

“...I’m not hungry,” Hakyeon said quietly, letting his fork fall.

“You need to _eat_ , Hakyeon—”

“I know!” Hakyeon snapped. Taekwoon was so taken aback by the sharp tone, he froze. Hakyeon looked equally surprised and covered his mouth with both hands, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, that—I don’t know what that was.”

“When did you last eat a hot meal?” Taekwoon said.

“...Yesterday,” Hakyeon said.

“Liar.”

“I did!” Hakyeon insisted. “I had soup!”

“So _eat_ —”

They were interrupted by the clatter of the aluminum chair next to them being pulled out and promptly filled with a laptop bag. The chair beside it was abruptly taken by a hassled Hongbin, leaning over a plate of his own and breaking his chopsticks with one hand and his teeth.

“Nagging gets you absolutely nowhere with him,” Hongbin informed Taekwoon with a punctuating chopstick point. “He has no idea he gets hangry, he’s been like this for years.”

“Excuse you,” Hakyeon told Hongbin with a sniff. “I do not get _hangry._ ”

“Then you get harmatic.”

“What the fu—”

“Hungry and dramatic,” Hongbin cut Taekwoon off. “Super dramatic. World is ending, love is dead, existence is meaningless, when TVXQ spilt up we entered an alternate timeline from which there is no escape, only suffering.”

“You’re eating pretty late yourself,” Hakyeon pointed out with a sniff. Hongbin sighed and slumped back in his seat.

“I’ve had five coffees and two caffeinated teas,” he said. “Wonshik told me to eat before I vibrated through my chair.” 

“Aren’t your offices on different floors?” Taekwoon asked with a confused frown. Hongbin nodded, poking at his plate with an expression of deep suspicion. He sniffed his forkful before chewing it thoughtfully.

“We’re camped out in an empty conference room on his floor,” Hongbin said. “He kept running downstairs to ask me things, it was way more efficient to just move in together.”

Hakyeon dropped his fork on the table with a clatter; he snatched it up again with a half-hearted laugh that made both Taekwoon and Hongbin look at him in confusion.

“Are you okay?” Hongbin asked cautiously, “Aside from the usual overworking yourself, I mean. You’re kind of pale.”

Taekwoon blinked, then looked back at Hakyeon; he _was_ kind of pale, just a shade less warm than usual. Without thinking, Taekwoon leaned forward to put a hand on Hakyeon’s forehead; was he sick? Did he have a fever? He felt fine against Taekwoon’s palm—if anything, he seemed a bit cool.

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon said, pulling away from Taekwoon’s touch like he’d been burned. “I don’t know why everyone is so up in my business lately but it’s completely unnecessary, we have much bigger concerns.”

Hongbin looked unconvinced, but shrugged.

“Did Wonshik eat?” Hakyeon pressed. Hongbin shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Probably not. He does the same thing you do with your stupid granola bars, except his are like... low-carb protein bars and instant coffee. So not food, basically. I’m bringing him sandwiches and I’m going to watch him eat them, don’t worry,” Hongbin promised with the resolution of a man on a mission.

“Good,” Hakyeon said. “He stopped listening to me months ago.”

“Probably because you don’t practice what you preach,” Taekwoon pointed out. Hakyeon shot him another annoyed look.

“I don’t know why you even _care,_ this isn’t—”

“Because I care about you,” Taekwoon shot back. Had Hakyeon honestly missed this very obvious fact? Taekwoon didn’t nag anyone else—sure, nobody else seemed to have problems taking care of themselves to the degree Hakyeon did, but he also felt like even if they did, it wouldn’t bother him even half as much. It took a few beats for him to register the gaping silence after his statement; Hakyeon was staring at him with an open mouth, apparently at a loss for words.

Hongbin cleared his throat and collected his things.

“I’m—I’m gonna go,” he said awkwardly. “Need to feed Wonshik. Bye.”

Hakyeon had dropped his head; his cheeks were red.

“Why on earth would you say something like that?” Hakyeon asked in a low voice.

“Because it’s the truth,” Taekwoon said, dejected. “Even if you don’t feel like that, obviously.”

“I care, of course I care,” Hakyeon said rapidly, one hand shooting out to rest on Taekwoon’s wrist. “Of course I—”

Taekwoon held his breath; he couldn’t seem to get enough air every time he touched Hakyeon’s skin. If was like electricity through him, a jolt that somehow remained just as sharp no matter how many times it happened. Hakyeon looked conflicted, and when he noticed where his fingers were he pulled back again.

“Sorry,” Hakyeon mumbled. “I’m—I keep making it worse, don’t I.” It wasn’t a question. Taekwoon sighed.

“Things have to already be bad before they can get ‘worse’,” he pointed out. “Are we bad?” Hakyeon didn’t answer immediately, seeming to roll the question over in his mind. Taekwoon felt a rising sense of anxiety that maybe he’d misread Hakyeon again—or was it for the first time? Had they ever clearly established what it all was _before_ things went sideways?

“We’re not,” Hakyeon said decisively. “We’re—I’m not totally sure what we are, but not ‘bad’.”

“I’ll take it,” Taekwoon nodded firmly. “Now: eat your food.”

Hakyeon gave him a look that suggested he was actively reconsidering his perspective, but he took a bite, so Taekwoon decided to count it as a net win. He took a fairly large, sloppy bite of his own cafeteria pasta without much thought to his button-down shirt and tie; it only occurred to him to be worried about it when Hakyeon wrapped his hand around Taekwoon’s necktie and tugged it once, sharp. It didn’t hurt, but Taekwoon felt an odd warmth roll through his body. 

“Your table manners leave something to be desired,” Hakyeon informed him dryly. “Take this off before you start inhaling things, it looks expensive.”

Taekwoon raised an eyebrow, then pulled his tie loose with one hand, placing it on the table between them.

“I’ll take off whatever you want,” Taekwoon informed Hakyeon softly. The look he got in return was so heated it made him shiver.

“We are in public,” Hakyeon reminded him softly.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t tell me to strip,” Taekwoon shot back.

“I didn’t say ‘strip,’ I said you’re going to ruin your clothes,” Hakyeon corrected, but he’d picked up Taekwoon’s tie in one hand and was running it across the other in a slow, silky movement, eyes locked on the fabric. 

“I have other ties,” Taekwoon said.

“I should hope so,” Hakyeon replied absently. There was something about his expression that had Taekwoon utterly captivated. When Hakyeon’s gaze flicked back to him, he felt his breath stutter in his chest again. When he managed to inhale, he intended to tell Hakyeon that he quite liked ties and had a nice variety.

“I have some that aren’t for clothes,” he said instead. Hakyeon stopped pulling.

“Did we not just establish that we are _in public_ ,” he said, sounding much less angry and offended than Taekwoon felt his comment honestly deserved.

“Sorry,” he said. Hakyeon sighed.

“Let’s just finish,” he said. A beat later, a thought bobbed to the surface of his mind and he added a hurried, “Lunch. Finish our lunch, that is.”

Taekwoon managed to hide his smile, but barely.

Wonshik threw Hakyeon’s office door open with a slam; Hongbin was right behind him with a twisted expression that bode poorly for whatever they were about to say. Wonshik slapped a file down on the desk and the ‘thwack’ sound made Taekwoon jump.

“We’ve got three,” Wonshik said firmly.

“Six people accessed this terminal yesterday,” Hongbin told Hakyeon. 

“Of those six, three requested password changes,” Wonshik added. “All three were granted, so this is as narrow as we could get.”

Hakyeon looked at the file; he knew he should pick it up, open it, read through it carefully—anything, but instead he stayed frozen in place, overwhelmed by the desire to avoid this entire confrontation and stay comfortably ignorant.

Then Taekwoon reached out and lifted it from the desk.

“Hakyeon?” he asked softly. When Hakyeon couldn’t summon a reply, Taekwoon looked at his face, then down at the folder again. He grabbed at Hakyeon’s elbow and tugged the fabric lightly to get his attention. “Should I read it?”

Snapping back into focus, Hakyeon straightened. He took the file from Taekwoon and met his eyes squarely.

“No,” he said. “This is my job.” He looked back at the pair that had brought him what they needed and smiled. “You two take the rest of the day off. Thank you.” Hongbin opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Wonshik put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his elbow, steering him away and to the door.

“Thank you hyung, see you tomorrow!” Wonshik threw over his shoulder as he got Hongbin out of the office. As soon as the door latched shut behind them, Hakyeon took a deep breath and flipped the file open. As he read, an uncomfortable sense of confusion settled over him; he recognized all three names, and he would have pegged exactly none of them for any kind of disorder, let alone corporate espionage.

He put the file down.

“This isn’t right,” he said, hollow. “It’s none of these people. I know these people, they’re—they wouldn’t do this.”

“Are you sure?” Taekwoon asked.

“Yes,” Hakyeon said firmly. “Like I said, I know these people. This one—” he pulled one document free and tapped the name impatiently, “—she’s a single mother. She puts in overtime a few days a month so she can take her daughter on weekend trips to museums and historical sites. She brings me postcards and fridge magnets. This guy—” another file pulled free, “—applied for an entry-level position three months after being laid off from his company of seventeen years; the board decided to liquidate and he lost everything. I hired him for a vacancy higher up than he applied for; it wasn’t quite the same as the job he’d had, but required a similar skill set, so it had a good chance of working out. He’s now the supervisor of that entire department.”

The last file _really_ hurt, and he set it down very gingerly.

“This is my friend, from junior high school. He had some mental health issues that led to a misdemeanor shoplifting conviction in college. Nobody was willing to give him a chance to start fresh, so he bounced from temp job to temp job, sixty hours a week, just to survive. We had an opening that was a bit lower in terms of required experience and I thought he’d be a good fit for it. He has a spotless record here: never late, never missed a day, never anything less than glowing evaluations from his managers. He’s doing extremely well.”

“None of those people sound like they would do anything to risk the chance you gave them,” Taekwoon observed.

“Precisely,” Hakyeon said. “They all have far too much to lose, and none of them are that stupid. Not even my friend. He made his mistakes, but he learned and moved on.”

Taekwoon reached out and caught Hakyeon’s hand, holding if gently between both of his. Hakyeon wasn’t sure what this silent gesture was supposed to mean, if anything, but it felt like some kind of support for what he was about to say.

“We’re back at square one, it seems.”

The silence hung between them, uncomfortable. Hakyeon wasn’t sure if Taekwoon was waiting for more, but that was all he had. The frustration of the situation was twisting in his gut again; why was this happening? Why hadn’t he been able to prevent it, or fix it, or offer anything other than overtime and an office? Should he spend time investigating people he believed were innocent, wasting their limited resources, just to put an official sort of certainty on it?

“Hakyeon?”

He looked up.

“Can I hug you?”

“…What?”

“Can I hug you?” Taekwoon repeated. Hakyeon blinked at him.

“Why would you want to hug me?” he asked, baffled.

“You look like you could use it,” Taekwoon said simply, as if this was a perfectly normal offer between colleagues. Maybe it was in Taekwoon’s world; his father did have a tendency to greet his long-term business partners with a warm hug over a firm handshake, but Hakyeon had always interpreted it as a sort of fondness for his favorite people more than a policy. The longer he thought about it, the harder it was to convince himself he didn’t want it; he was just the right height to hug well, and Hakyeon suspected he’d be able to tuck his nose behind Taekwoon’s ear and feel his heartbeat through his chest. As his imagination spun off wildly into what was definitely no longer a hug so much as an embrace, he reined his thoughts in just fast enough to decide he should absolutely refuse.

“Yes please,” Hakyeon said, utterly unable to control himself. Taekwoon used the hand he hadn’t let go of to pull Hakyeon gently forward, then wrapped his long arms around Hakyeon and just... held him there. He was warm, but also reassuringly solid as Hakyeon leaned into him more; it felt like Taekwoon’s hold tightened just a little and a tiny sigh slipped out before Hakyeon could bite it back.

Taekwoon huffed a small laugh and Hakyeon turned his face into Taekwoon’s neck.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he grumbled. Taekwoon made the huffing sound again with his cheek against Hakyeon’s hair. His hold dropped to around Hakyeon’s waist, and Hakyeon adjusted so both his arms were around Taekwoon’s neck.

“You like this,” Taekwoon commented, sounding smug.

“Don’t tell,” Hakyeon warned him.

“Never,” Taekwoon promised.

“Is the door locked?”

“No?”

Hakyeon pulled out of his hold, made straight for the door, locked it with a sharp snap, turned right back around and reached for Taekwoon with both arms; he was pleased that Taekwoon didn’t need to be told to welcome him back, and simply pulled him in again with a smile.

“Isn’t this an HR violation?” Taekwoon asked him, once again more than a little smug.

“Yes,” Hakyeon said.

“But you don’t care?”

“I should.”

“But you don’t.”

Hakyeon shook his head. 

“Very few people hug me anymore,” he admitted quietly. There was a pause, then Taekwoon used his hold around Hakyeon’s middle to lift him just enough for a single twirl. He squeaked in surprise and pulled back to look Taekwoon in the face.

“What was that?!”

“Does anybody spin you?” Taekwoon asked.

“No!” Hakyeon informed him.

“Good,” Taekwoon said. “That means it’s only me that does.”

“Does?!” Hakyeon parroted. “Are you going to do it again?!” In response, Taekwoon simply locked his wrists around Hakyeon and gave him another spin, although he also huffed dramatically as though it took tremendous physical effort. Hakyeon felt the need to lightly punch his arm for the implication that he was difficult to lift.

“Ow!”

“You’re not hurt,” Hakyeon sniffed, “Don’t pretend you are.”

“Maybe you hurt my feelings,” Taekwoon said softly. Guilt punched through Hakyeon at 100km an hour and he put one hand on Taekwoon’s cheek. Was he going to just fuck up everything today? 

“I did?” he said, heartbroken. “I’m so—”

“No, no, you didn’t, I’m joking,” Taekwoon said quickly. “I’m fine—”

“Are you sure?” Hakyeon said urgently. Before he could sink deeper into panic, Taekwoon was pulling him into a close hug again, but this time with a hand on the back of Hakyeon’s head.

“Very sure,” he said. “You don’t need to be upset.”

Hakyeon wasn’t sure why Taekwoon knew he was upset, or why he would even care, but he pulled out of his hold just the same, and shook his head with a smile when Taekwoon tried to speak.

“We have a lot to do,” he said, hoping to leave the warm float in his chest behind before he could get too attached to it. Taekwoon ducked his head, hiding his expression from view, and Hakyeon returned to his chair behind the desk without seeing it.

Taekwoon decided fairly early in the afternoon that he was not going to let Hakyeon stay behind at work, no matter what progress they had or had not made. In order to pull it off, he waited for Sanghyuk to return to Hakyeon’s office for a status report.

“So in other words,” Hakyeon said with a surprisingly tense expression, “we have nothing?”

“Well—yeah, I guess... that’s pretty much it,” Sanghyuk said. “We haven’t really identified any serious candidates yet.”

“I see,” Hakyeon said evenly. “Thank you for the update.” He then put his head in his hands and sighed heavily. Sanghyuk seemed uneasy, which was exactly what Taekwoon was looking for. As Sanghyuk turned away, despondent, Taekwoon grabbed his elbow, walking him to the door and out into the hallway.

“Help me,” he whispered.

“Uh, maybe you should tell your dad if you’re having second thoughts,” Sanghyuk suggested. Taekwoon shook his head.

“No, help me with Hakyeon,” he said. Sanghyuk held up both hands.

“If hyung wants to risk his career with you, that’s his prerogative, but I for one like my job and—”

“ _Help me get him home,_ ” Taekwoon insisted. “ _His_ home, not sleeping under the desk!”

“Ohhh,” Sanghyuk said. “Yeah, okay. What’re you thinking, throwing a bag over his head and tying him up in the trunk of your car?”

“Uh,” Taekwoon said stiffly. “I was thinking we’d just talk to him.”

“I mean, I guess we can try that,” Sanghyuk said, screwing up his face. “Not sure what would make him listen when he hasn’t so far though. We can give it a shot!”

“Don’t think for one second you fooled me,” Hakyeon complained loudly from Taekwoon’s passenger seat. “I was on to you the entire time.”

“Right,” Taekwoon agreed mildly.

“I could see it on your face, you were planning something,” Hakyeon continued. “You had a look in your eye. A sneaky look. So sneaky.”

“Yep,” Taekwoon acknowledged.

“…Getting Hyukkie involved was just rude,” Hakyeon added with a grumble.

“You weren’t going to leave if I didn’t,” Taekwoon felt obligated to point out. Hakyeon just huffed, sinking deeper into the seat with an angry little wiggle that was so cute, Taekwoon had to turn his head suddenly to hide his smile.

“Still,” Hakyeon huffed. “Having him _hold my hand_? Rude. Extremely rude.”

“Sorry,” Taekwoon said, utterly insincere. Hakyeon reached out and unceremoniously chopped in the neck with his hand. Taekwoon yelped.

“It didn’t hurt that much, you big baby,” Hakyeon said.

“I’m _driving!_ ” Taekwoon pointed out. “That’s dangerous!”

“You’re a very responsible driver,” Hakyeon countered. “I have complete faith in you.”

Taekwoon felt himself flush at the praise, but he couldn’t duck away without crashing the car, so he just stared at the road ahead and hoped Hakyeon wouldn’t look his direction and notice. It turned out to be a futile wish; he felt, rather than saw, the moment Hakyeon caught him. Mostly because Hakyeon poked him in the cheek with his index finger.

“Stop,” he said.

“Driving?”

“No!” 

“What then?”

“Being so—so—” Hakyeon said, surprisingly flustered. Taekwoon glanced at him sidelong, confused.

“So?” he prompted. Hakyeon pouted, and Taekwoon pretended it had no effect on him whatsoever.

“Cute,” Hakyeon mumbled, extremely cutely himself. Taekwoon felt his flush getting deeper. In order to distract Hakyeon from his current line of thought, Taekwoon attempted to bite the finger poking him, missing by a hair. Hakyeon grumbled again and turned his face to the window, apparently done with the teasing for now. The drive got quiet, but for Taekwoon it felt strangely comfortable—he didn’t feel the need to fill the silence, and Hakyeon didn’t seem to expect him to. About ten minutes from Hakyeon’s apartment, Taekwoon realized he’d fallen asleep.

As he pulled up in front to park and turned off the engine, Taekwoon had a mighty internal battle. On the one hand, Hakyeon would have to wake up so he could _go home_. On the other, he was clearly sleeping now, and Taekwoon wasn’t at all sure he would sleep if left to his own devices. 

He didn’t look peaceful, exactly, or rested—he just looked like he wasn’t stressed to hell and back. All the tension and anxiety in his face was gone, leaving him much, much closer to the Hakyeon that Taekwoon had first met. 

Taekwoon was surprised how much he’d missed him.

The stillness stirred Hakyeon awake; he blinked, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up.

“Here already?” he said, voice ever so slightly husky. “You must have been speeding.”

 _I’d never do anything to take you away faster,_ his heart protested. Fortunately, his mouth knew better than to say it. Taekwoon reached out and unbuckled Hakyeon’s seatbelt for him, a gesture which earned him a shy smile. 

“I’ll walk you up,” Taekwoon said, fully prepared to be rejected. To his surprise, Hakyeon was either too sleepy or too worn out to care, nodding at him and getting out of the car. The walk up was once again silent; Hakyeon stopped in front of his door and turned, eyes glued to his housekey in his hand.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said quietly. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.” He looked up, smiling, but there was visible exhaustion on his face; his hair was sticking up funny on the side he’d been resting on the window.

“You need to take care of yourself more,” Taekwoon scolded him gently. He reached out and smoothed Hakyeon’s hair with his fingers before realizing suddenly that was a pretty intimate sort of thing to do—and having a mild heart attack when Hakyeon turned his head ever so slightly into his palm.

“But you do it so well,” Hakyeon murmured. Taekwoon didn’t know what to say, or what to do—but his fingers drifted and his hand curved around Hakyeon’s cheek and jaw. He felt like he was being pulled in, dragged by Hakyeon’s gravity. He’d taken a half-step closer, then another, waiting for Hakyeon to stop him.

But he didn’t. Hakyeon’s back hit the door, trapping him. Taekwoon felt the same dizzy warmth as the night they’d been drinking, the night everything went wrong, but for some reason Hakyeon wasn’t running this time.

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said softly, putting his free hand on the door next to Hakyeon’s waist. He wanted this so, _so_ badly.

“Mm?” Hakyeon asked, leaning in more. He was so close, so inviting. Tempting.

“This is a bad idea,” Taekwoon reminded him, wondering if maybe Hakyeon had changed his position on the issue. Hakyeon’s smile faltered.

“I know,” he said quietly. That answer was enough for Taekwoon to feel like he had to take responsibility, no matter how much it pained him. He wanted Hakyeon to be comfortable with... whatever was happening, on every level. The knowledge that he wasn’t weighed on Taekwoon.

He pulled back, jamming his hands in his pockets.

“I should go,” he said, trying not to sound as sad as he felt. Hakyeon seemed frozen, and then slightly hurt. Taekwoon battled with conflicting guilt; one side of him wanted to keep walking backwards, but the other wanted to rush back in and try to soothe the pain.

“...I’m sorry,” Hakyeon said at last, and Taekwoon felt like the sound of his heart breaking must have been audible.

“It’s okay,” Taekwoon said immediately.

“It’s not,” Hakyeon countered. “I keep—making you responsible for this. You’re not, _I_ am, I’m—”

“This?” Taekwoon parroted dumbly. Was it continuing? Hadn’t Hakyeon already said they’d never go there? Why the _present tense_?!

“Oh,” Hakyeon said, a hand flying to his mouth as he realized what he’d done.

“...One of these days, you and I—” Taekwoon started after a healthy pause.

“Need to talk,” Hakyeon said with a very heavy sigh. “Really talk. For a long time, probably.”

“Tonight?” Taekwoon asked, uncertain. Hakyeon shook his head.

“Not tonight,” he said. “We’re both beat, it wouldn’t be—productive. But... soon.”

Taekwoon wasn’t sure what to take away from that; was it positive? Negative? At the same time as being confused, he felt strangely hopeful. It sounded nice—sitting down together and being honest about feelings they did or didn’t have.

“Well,” he said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “You know where to find me.”

Hakyeon smiled, sending a wave of flutters through Taekwoon’s chest. It was exactly the expression that made him feel a little weak in the knees.

“Good night,” Hakyeon said. “Thank you for the ride.”

Taekwoon didn’t trust himself to answer without making the conversation continue even longer, so he just waved and made his way back to his car.

Hakyeon felt like the past nine-odd hours had aged him ninety-odd years. He was utterly exhausted, but couldn’t help but notice that the drive had also relaxed him considerably from the tension of the day; he wanted to chalk it up entirely to the nap, but he wasn’t that delusional. Taekwoon’s quiet, never intrusive presence and dogged insistence that Hakyeon take care of himself was undeniably effective.

He sighed, hanging his suit jacket on a hanger and wandering into his kitchen. He should probably eat before sleeping, as limited as his appetite was when he was this stressed out. He’d started browsing the contents of his refrigerator when the doorbell rang. Jogging back to glance through the peephole, he was very confused to see Taekwoon.

“So,” Taekwoon said awkwardly, “My car won’t start.”

“What!?” Hakyeon squeaked.

“My car,” Taekwoon repeated. “Maybe the battery? Do you have jumper cables?”

“In _my_ car,” Hakyeon informed him. “Which is currently in company parking.”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon sighed heavily. “I kind of thought you’d say that. Never mind, I’ll call a taxi. Good—”

“From _here!?_ ” Hakyeon squawked. “It costs a small fortune.” Taekwoon raised an eyebrow at him.

“You did it,” he pointed out. Hakyeon felt himself coloring. Sure, he’d jumped in a cab and fled home from Taekwoon’s apartment, but it wasn’t like he was thinking about money in that moment. He’d barely had enough cash in his wallet to cover it. Making Taekwoon do the same when he could just as easily spare him seemed like a complete non-issue.

Well, okay, maybe there were a few issues.

“Look, just—crash here tonight,” Hakyeon suggested firmly. Taekwoon looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked, shocked. 

“No,” Hakyeon said. Sure, it would be a little awkward considering the state of their relationship, but it wasn’t like Hakyeon had any ulterior motives here. As long as they both kept their hands to themselves, it would be fine. Probably. “Really, it’s not a big deal. Come in.” He stepped aside and pulled the door open fully, gesturing for Taekwoon to enter.

“I could probably still catch a bus,” Taekwoon said as he came inside. He toed off his shoes and accepted the guest slippers Hakyeon handed him.

“There isn’t one close to here,” Hakyeon dismissed. He led Taekwoon further into the apartment; it was modest, but well-kept. Hakyeon considered himself a tidy person with minimalist tastes, choosing clean lines and neutral colors for his furniture, but decorating with smaller charming objects, like the cactus family on the breakfast bar and the Totoro collection in the living room. His couch was long and plush.

“Have a seat,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon sat down on the couch cautiously, but the softness of the cushions seemed to have caught him off guard because he immediately sank into them. His long limbs appeared to just naturally arrange themselves in a casual drape that drew Hakyeon’s eye. Taekwoon closed his eyes and rolled his head, stretching his neck, and Hakyeon forced himself to look away and walk towards the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” he asked without looking back. “I was just going to find dinner.”

“Yeah, kind of,” Taekwoon admitted. “What’re you making?” Hakyeon pulled open the fridge again, evaluating. He’d intended to stop at the supermarket on the way home tonight, so there wasn’t much to see. Kimchi, banana milk, eggs, a cucumber of debatable age—in the freezer, ice cream.

“Maybe we should order in,” Hakyeon muttered to himself. It didn’t seem to matter how much he practiced cooking; anything that took more than six steps failed utterly. He could usually find a way to eat his own disasters, but he wouldn’t wish that on anyone else.

“I thought we were trying to save money,” Taekwoon said from directly over his shoulder. Hakyeon nearly jumped out of his skin, squeaking in alarm almost immediately beating Taekwoon around the head for scaring him.

“Ow, ow!” Taekwoon said, ducking from the rain of furious, terrified punches.

“ _Don’t sneak up on me!_ ” Hakyeon fumed. “You’re big, it’s _scary!_ ”

“I’m sorry, sorry!” Taekwoon said, ducking out of reach. “I didn’t know you were jumpy!”

“I hate being surprised!” Hakyeon told him, pulling his arms back to hug himself and try to slow his erratic heartbeat. He _hated_ being scared, it was the worst feeling in the world and he could not understand how anyone would ever deliberately try and feel that way. 

“Hakyeon? Hey, come on,” Taekwoon said, low and gentle, “It’s okay. You’re okay, right?”

“No,” Hakyeon said. He wasn’t so quick to forgive after a jump scare like that.

Slowly, like he thought Hakyeon might startle (or beat him) again, Taekwoon reached out one hand until it met Hakyeon’s shoulder, then he stepped a bit closer to run his hand down Hakyeon’s arm. 

“You’re shaking,” Taekwoon commented softly. Hakyeon dropped his head, embarrassed.

“I’m tired,” he said. Then, just like at the office that morning, he felt Taekwoon’s arms around him. This hug was different; the one before was support. This was an apology, and he gladly accepted it. Taekwoon pat his back gently, soothing him.

“You’re okay,” Taekwoon said again, and this time Hakyeon nodded.

“Let’s—let’s find something to eat,” he said, lifting his head and smiling at Taekwoon. Logically, he understood how close they were standing, but he’d somehow managed to overlook it until meeting Taekwoon’s eyes, while still very much in his arms. He froze.

“Hi,” Taekwoon murmured. Hakyeon watched the color rise on his cheekbones.

“Hi,” he said back, just as soft. “You’re—very close.”

“You’re beautiful,” Taekwoon replied immediately. A beat later, his turned his head to the side as the flush spread to his ears.

“Was that an accident?” Hakyeon asked him. When Taekwoon didn’t answer and only looked more and more embarrassed, he lifted a hand and put it on the back of Taekwoon’s head. Standing up a little on his toes, Hakyeon gently guided Taekwoon’s face to his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Hakyeon said. “You can hide here.” He felt Taekwoon’s arms tighten around his waist. 

“I’m not hiding,” he mumbled into Hakyeon’s neck. 

“Of course you’re not,” Hakyeon assured him, patting his head. “You’re just avoiding detection.” 

As if to spoil the surprisingly warm mood, Taekwoon’s stomach growled loudly; Hakyeon laughed as he pulled back, embarrassed. Turning back to the fridge, Hakyeon opened it and gestured inside.

“As you can see, your choices are... limited,” he explained sheepishly. “I meant to go grocery shopping tonight.”

“There’s plenty here,” Taekwoon informed him. “You’ve got rice, right?” Hakyeon nodded at him; he started pulling out the kimchi and eggs and passing them to Hakyeon to hold. He picked up the cucumber, but it was clearly less than fresh, so he put it back.

“I literally only know how to make a fried egg,” Hakyeon informed him. Taekwoon looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Really?” he said. “But—kimchi fried rice is so easy.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Hakyeon said.

“Kimchijeon?”

“Do I look like a chef to you?!”

“You look like someone who should be able to cook to an extent,” Taekwoon told him. “You’re so on top of everything else…”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Hakyeon sniffed. Taekwoon sighed before heading towards the cupboards of dry goods. He pulled things down and, wisely in Hakyeon’s opinion, checked the expiration dates. Then he brought everything he collected to the stovetop.

“Watch,” he instructed Hakyeon. “It’s really easy, you’ll see.”

To Hakyeon’s eyes, it was not only not easy, but borderline magic. Taekwoon chopped and stirred, seasoning as he went, never once checking his phone for a recipe. He seemed to just intuitively know what came next, how much, where, for how long—all the things Hakyeon had to have written out in front of him to keep track of. Further, he didn’t stop at one dish; they had kimchi fried rice and kimchijeon and some sort of “let’s just wing it” cold noodle dish in less than half an hour.

Perhaps the best—or worst, depending on your perspective—part was that Hakyeon found almost nothing as attractive as _competence._ Taekwoon didn’t just throw something together, he did everything with an as-of-now previously unseen level of confidence. Ambidextrous and _hot as hell._

“Shall we?” Taekwoon asked, holding plates and heading towards the kitchen table. Hakyeon nodded, then stopped.

“Do you want something to drink?” Hakyeon asked him. Taekwoon paused in his arranging of the plates and looked up.

“…Uh,” he said with an expression of mild panic, “What do you have?”

“Water, tea, banana milk, probably instant coffee somewhere,” Hakyeon listed off. Taekwoon was visibly relieved.

“I thought you were going to say beer,” he admitted softly. “Water is fine, thank you.”

“I mean, I have a bottle of wine but that seems… unwise,” Hakyeon informed him, turning back to the kitchen. When he returned to the table, Taekwoon was watching him, brows knit.

“Something wrong?”

“Were you... that drunk?” Taekwoon asked him softly. “The other night, I mean.”

“Were you?” Hakyeon deflected.

“Buzzed,” Taekwoon said. “Not drunk.” Hakyeon didn’t immediately have a response; answering the question felt a little too much like having that deep talk they definitely needed to have. At the same time, dodging it like this didn’t feel much better.

“What does it really matter at this point,” Hakyeon said, hoping to end the conversation and move on to something else.

“Because if you were drunk, I—took advantage, kind of, and I never—”

“What?!” Hakyeon interrupted. “No, no! You absolutely did not, not for a single second. I was like you, just—just enough to be a little too comfortable. I wasn’t thinking, but not because I wasn’t capable of it.” He looked down at his plate. “I was stupid, that’s—that’s it.”

Taekwoon stayed quiet.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you _hurt_ me, because you absolutely did not,” Hakyeon added. Then, after a thoughtful pause, “Did I hurt _you_?”

“A little,” Taekwoon admitted. He poked at his fried rice with a spoon. “Just my feelings, though.” Then before Hakyeon could fall into a pit of regret and anxiety, he lifted up a generous spoonful and held it out. “Try this.”

“I—” Hakyeon started, but as soon as his mouth was open, Taekwoon was bringing the rice in. Once his mouth was full, he was completely sidetracked by how genuinely delicious it was, making a happy humming noise and giving Taekwoon two thumbs up. Taekwoon bit his lip and smiled, dropping his head with a little huffed laugh.

Hakyeon’s heart flipped over and he realized he might have made a tremendous mistake.

Taekwoon was kind of surprised how comfortable he was, truthfully. All things considered, he should have felt extremely awkward and intrusive, pointedly aware of Hakyeon at all times. Instead, he began to relax in a way that he hadn’t really managed since the night on his couch. As badly as it ended, the run-up had been almost unbelievably easy-going. Even though he was now in Hakyeon’s house, the tension in his shoulders had loosened and the anxiety coiling in his stomach was fading every time Hakyeon just smiled at him.

Dinner took ages, partly because they were chatting, and partly because Taekwoon kept asking questions in the hopes that he could make this warm atmosphere last as long as possible. He knew it was getting late, but it had taken so much work to get their relationship back to this place that he was loathe to end it. Hakyeon seemed just as reluctant, leaving a bite on his plate that he pushed around with his spoon as if the meal wouldn’t end until the dish was clear.

When they finally hit two hours, Hakyeon sighed heavily.

“We should really sleep,” he said, putting down his spoon.

“Probably,” Taekwoon agreed with just as much disappointment.

Hakyeon stood and started to gather the dishes; Taekwoon started to do the same, but Hakyeon waved him off. 

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “You cooked, I’ll wash.”

“It’s faster if we both do it,” Taekwoon protested. He got up to follow Hakyeon back to the kitchen, pulling at his sleeve as if it would validate his point. Hakyeon ignored him, putting everything in the sink and turning on the tap. Taekwoon took another step closer, prepared to argue, but Hakyeon had rotated again and it left them inches apart for what felt like, at this point, the hundredth time.

“You really need to stop doing this,” Hakyeon informed him.

“Do I?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t want to,” Taekwoon shot back. “Do you want me to?”

“Well—no, but—”

“It’s always a ‘but’ with you,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon pouted at him in an incredibly distracting way; Taekwoon lifted his hand towards those tempting lips, only to let it fall limply to his side.

“I never said I wasn’t conflicted,” Hakyeon said, voice soft. “There’s just—”

“A lot at stake,” Taekwoon finished. “I know.”

“Yeah, if someone found out, it could be bad,” Hakyeon agreed, but Taekwoon froze.

“Wait,” he said, scarcely able to breathe, “If someone found out? That’s—that’s the issue? Getting caught?” Hakyeon blinked at him in confusion.

“Of course,” he said. “What else would it be?”

“That you didn’t like me,” Taekwoon supplied. “Or it went against some—deeply held moral principle or something.” His mind was whirling; if being caught was the only blockade, then surely the solution was quite simply _don’t get caught._ They could do whatever they wanted as long as they were discreet enough to avoid detection!

“If I didn’t like you, this wouldn’t be so _hard_ ,” Hakyeon pointed out with a slight whine. Taekwoon put his hands on either side of Hakyeon’s face, feeling his own smile blooming.

“This is so easy,” he said. “We just won’t.”

“Won’t?”

“Get caught,” Taekwoon clarified.

“You have already demonstrated extremely limited self-control,” Hakyeon informed him, pulling out of his hands. Taekwoon took a moment to be slightly offended before deciding there were more important things to be focusing on, like convincing Hakyeon this was not only perfectly do-able but _sensible._

“Kiss me,” Taekwoon insisted. Hakyeon flushed a deep red.

“Excuse me?”

“Kiss me, then tell me it’s not worth the risk.” 

“You think very highly of your kissing skills,” Hakyeon said, extremely skeptical. Taekwoon knew he was blushing; it wasn’t true, but he’d felt the heat between them often enough at this point to be relatively confident that any actual contact would be extremely memorable. He placed his hands on the counter behind Hakyeon.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Taekwoon suggested.

“I’m not kissing you,” Hakyeon said firmly. “That would be ridiculous.” He nudged Taekwoon’s arm until it was pulled back and he could slide out from between Taekwoon and the counter. Taekwoon might have been imagining it, but it seemed like Hakyeon was moving at quite a clip to put as much distance between them as possible.

“I’m going to get my pillow and blanket, then you can tuck into bed,” Hakyeon informed him over one shoulder.

“Wait, are you—you’re going to take the couch?”

“Of course,” Hakyeon said. “I’m hardly going to make a guest sleep there.”

“I’m not a _guest_ , I’m a freeloader,” Taekwoon corrected him. Hakyeon huffed as he made his way into his bedroom with Taekwoon right on his tail. Taekwoon hesitated for a moment in the doorway, taking in what he would imagine was quite a private place for an already private person. It was small, but more crowded than the other rooms he’d seen so far. Hakyeon’s bed was the overwhelming main attraction, of a modest size and covered in a variety of fluffy-looking pillows. The duvet was a soft grey color, understated, and when Hakyeon pulled it back to reach some of his more practical pillows, it exposed crisp cream-colored sheets. Unable to resist the urge to touch, Taekwoon let his fingers brush against the sheet: silk. 

Yeah, Hakyeon _would_ be the kind of guy who had silk sheets.

“Okay, got mine,” Hakyeon said, breaking Taekwoon from his thoughts. “Tuck in, sleep well.”

Taekwoon caught him by the wrist.

“You’re not sleeping on your own couch,” Taekwoon said firmly.

“Neither are you!” Hakyeon said, equally firm. 

The solution to the dispute seemed both incredibly obvious, and incredibly presumptuous, so Taekwoon found himself standing there, in silence, waiting for Hakyeon to pull his hand free. If he opened his mouth, he’d say something he was quite sure Hakyeon didn’t want to hear—it seemed safer to just clench his jaw and brace for the rejection of an offer he hadn’t even had the guts to make.

Hakyeon could have sworn Taekwoon could feel his pulse thundering beneath his fingers. Thoughts were flying in and out of his head so quickly he could barely catch a word, and then he made the mistake of making full eye contact.

Taekwoon’s expression was so _sad_ , so resigned, that Hakyeon had to stomp down hard on the urge to try and fix it. There was nothing to _fix_ , this wasn’t even a fight, it was just Taekwoon being stubborn and Hakyeon being more stubborn and both of them refusing to look at the bed as if that would make it stop existing so _pointedly._

Okay, so maybe it just felt that way to Hakyeon.

“So if you don’t, and I don’t, then what?” Hakyeon asked, well aware he was shifting responsibility. Taekwoon actually glanced sideways at the bed, but had the wisdom not to answer.

Hakyeon sighed.

“This is a purely platonic situation,” he warned Taekwoon with a stern finger point. “This is the line, I am drawing it here. No—no funny business.”

“Of course,” Taekwoon said, unable to keep the brightness out of his voice and eyes. “Totally—totally and utterly platonic. Hands to myself. Yep.” Hakyeon shot him a withering, disbelieving look. This was probably a terrible idea—no, it was _definitely_ a terrible idea, but Taekwoon was so bad at hiding his excitement that Hakyeon couldn’t help but be endeared.

“I’m going to change,” Hakyeon informed him. “I’ll bring you something to sleep in.”

“Thanks,” Taekwoon said quietly, still somewhat unable to hide his excitement. Hakyeon had a mighty internal debate with himself at the dresser: should he offer shorts, or long sweat pants? Shorts would probably be more comfortable, especially with more than one person in the bed, but also there was the opportunity for bare leg touching bare leg. For reasons even he didn’t fully understand, that felt unusually scandalous.

“How—how do you usually sleep?” Hakyeon asked delicately. When he got no response, he turned around and met Taekwoon’s eyes. He immediately looked down, flushing a deep red.

“...just—I kind of just take everything off?” he squeaked.

“Everything?!” Hakyeon asked in alarm.

“Not—I mean, I still have underwear on, unless it’s like. Really hot outside,” Taekwoon clarified, turning a color Hakyeon would have thought impossible.

“Of course,” Hakyeon said, turning his back again to hide his own blushing. “It’s not really any of my business, sorry, I just—never mind.” God, why had he even asked? The answer was going to haunt him now.

“...and you?” Taekwoon asked very softly from behind him. Hakyeon felt his flush climbing up his neck and spreading to his ears. He fiercely debated whether or not to answer before deciding it was only fair, since he’d asked it first.

“Soft things,” he said. “I like to be comfortable.”

“Is that why your sheets are so nice?” Taekwoon asked curiously. Hakyeon turned around, aware he was far from composed but starting to suspect the only way to get out of this awkwardness was to simply plow forward full speed. He grabbed some soft shorts and a soft t-shirt for Taekwoon.

“In summer I prefer cotton, but the thread count is always high,” Hakyeon said. He held out the clothes and tried very hard to keep his mind off the reality of the situation: Taekwoon, in his clothing, _definitely soft._ if touched—he felt like he was being tested by God Himself.

Hakyeon was a Buddhist; he didn’t even _believe_ in God, but it still felt like temptation.

“I’ll let you change,” Hakyeon said quickly, starting to turn.

“You don’t have to,” Taekwoon said, just as quickly. Hakyeon blinked at him, his mind going completely blank. What? He didn’t have to... not watch? What? _What?!_

“I think I should,” Hakyeon informed him. “No, I definitely should.” Taekwoon had the audacity to _sigh_ , as if he was being personally disappointed, before pouting at him. 

“If you say so,” Taekwoon said with a disingenuous shrug. Hakyeon grabbed his own sleepwear and fled before this devil could take his soul. He changed in the bathroom with sweaty palms; why was he so nervous? They weren’t going to _do_ anything, just sleep! He’d slept in beds with people for entirely innocent reasons before, this was no different!

Well, okay, he’d never shared a bed with someone quite as attractive as Taekwoon, but that was beside the point.

By the time he came back (knocking on the door and waiting for a soft ‘come in’ before he entered) Taekwoon hadn’t just changed, he’d also already started lifting the bedding on one side to get in. Hakyeon got one good look at the width of his shoulders and the surprisingly toned calves that only really highlighted how _long_ Taekwoon was before snapping out of his reverie.

“Is it okay if I take the left side?” Taekwoon asked him softly. Hakyeon smiled and hoped Taekwoon wouldn’t notice his distraction.

“No problem!” Hakyeon said. “Whichever you prefer!” He busied himself with moving pillows and lifting the duvet and sheets, trying very deliberately to not notice Taekwoon’s presence at all. Sleeping. They were going to sleep. No need to have a heart attack over it. He felt Taekwoon settling beside him, but he very deliberately turned on his side, back towards his guest. The bed was a double, which normally he would say was perfectly sufficient to hold two people, but when Taekwoon’s back touched his, he found himself reconsidering that opinion. Relatively certain he would get zero sleep, Hakyeon settled in with a sigh.

Against all odds, Hakyeon drifted off fairly quickly; maybe the stress of the day took more out of him than he thought. He wasn’t even particularly plagued with unpleasant dreams; things just kind of slid together into an unmemorable series of storylines. Then he felt himself gently rising to consciousness—and immediate panic.

He was curled around Taekwoon’s back, right arm over his waist and nose alarmingly close to the nape of his neck. He froze, both unsure how he got there and how to get out of the situation. Taekwoon was warm against his chest and soft beneath his fingers; for a moment, Hakyeon’s heart absolutely ached over how _right_ it felt. He had to force himself to lift his arm and roll onto his back, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. This was bad—this was _so_ bad—but he liked it. This had been the worst decision he’d made yet.

“Mmm,” Taekwoon murmured, stirring beside him. Hakyeon immediately rolled over so his back was turned, overcome with panic and regret—

“Hakyeon?” Taekwoon mumbled in the cutest, groggiest, almost definitely still-mostly-asleep voice Hakyeon had ever heard in his life. Hakyeon decided the safest choice here was to stay silent and pretend he hadn’t woken up. Taekwoon was barely conscious, he wouldn’t notice.

Then he felt Taekwoon roll over and press against him, throwing an arm over him and tangling their (bare, he knew the bare legs were going to haunt him, he _knew_ it!) legs together. Taekwoon’s breath ghosted across Hakyeon’s ear as he simply lined the full length of his body along Hakyeon’s. Then the arm holding him pulled ever so slightly, just enough to feel like he was really being _held._

Hakyeon had to get up. Or wake up Taekwoon. Surely as soon as he was conscious, he would let go; they would both be awkward, but sleep is sleep and they could hardly be blamed for moving when they weren’t even aware of things. Taekwoon would apologize and Hakyeon would apologize and then it would never be spoken of again.

Except that this was the most perfect thing that had ever happened to Hakyeon and no matter how much his rational mind shrieked the alarm, he couldn’t bring himself to make it end. He’d never felt such happiness over something so simple and understated. Just being surrounded by Taekwoon’s warmth, soft and close, was precious.

Hakyeon put his hand over Taekwoon’s and closed his eyes, hoping that no one ever found out about this, so he could enjoy it now.

Taekwoon came to remarkably comfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time waking up felt so easy and pleasant. It took a few seconds for the world to come into clarity, and when it did, he was stabbed straight through the heart.

Hakyeon was in his arms. Hakyeon was asleep, in Taekwoon’s arms, in Hakyeon’s bed, while he was wearing Hakyeon’s clothes. Hakyeon was close and peaceful and absolutely breathtaking in _Taekwoon’s arms._ He moved his leg and felt it slide against Hakyeon’s skin, and every time Hakyeon inhaled, he felt the rise of his ribcage. Taekwoon lifted his head and leaned forward as slowly as he could in the hopes of seeing Hakyeon’s face.

He didn’t care at all how this had happened, but he was desperate to make it count. As his weight shifted, Hakyeon stirred; first he stretched a bit, then when Taekwoon leaned back, Hakyeon’s upper body rolled back until his shoulders both touched the bed. Their position felt quite precarious, and Taekwoon sucked in a breath. When Hakyeon opened his eyes, Taekwoon realized he was essentially leaning over Hakyeon and staring him down. His heart stopped.

“Good morning,” he said, whisper-soft. Hakyeon frowned, but he didn’t seem angry so much as confused.

“Morning,” Hakyeon murmured back. It was slightly rough from sleep and the texture sent a shiver down Taekwoon’s spine. God, Hakyeon looked so good like this: rumpled and unfocused, loose-limbed beneath him. Taekwoon wasn’t sure when he’d started dropping down, only that it must have started so slowly he didn’t notice it. Hakyeon did, and Taekwoon braced himself for the inevitable scolding rejection.

As Taekwoon came down so low he could feel Hakyeon’s breath on his face without a single word spoken, he forced himself to halt. Even more confusingly, Hakyeon’s hand lifted from the bed to glide smoothly up his side, then his face, before twisting in his hair with a very slight pull. Hakyeon bit his lip.

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said in the short space between them. It felt like the only word he knew.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember?”

Hakyeon blinked at him, some of the haze leaving his eyes. He seemed to be struggling to think, and Taekwoon was relieved to know he wasn’t the only one.

“Please tell me I didn’t cave,” Hakyeon asked. He didn’t sound as upset by the idea as he had up until now, and Taekwoon wasn’t sure if it was because he was still kind of sleepy, or if the night wrapped around each other had changed something for him.

“Not yet,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon’s expression changed into something more... disappointed?

“Oh, good,” he said in the least convincing voice Taekwoon had ever heard.

“We could fix that,” Taekwoon said, leaning closer still.

“It’s not fixing, it’s ruining,” Hakyeon informed him.

Taekwoon wasn’t going to kiss Hakyeon until Hakyeon undeniably consented—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t help Hakyeon understand how lovely kissing would be. He dropped his head and tucked his nose against Hakyeon’s neck, speaking against his skin.

“Is it though?” he asked. Hakyeon’s fingers curled against his head and he inhaled sharply. Just as Taekwoon was about to try and push his buttons just a little more, they were both startled by Hakyeon’s alarm going off.

“For fuck’s sake,” Hakyeon growled in undisguised frustration. Taekwoon laughed against his neck before rolling over onto his back.

“Back to the grind,” Taekwoon said, turning his head to smile at Hakyeon. Hakyeon shifted onto his side, facing Taekwoon, with a soft smile of his own. Taekwoon felt a pang in his heart as he thought with a single, singing note of clarity: _I want to wake up like this forever._

Hakyeon’s smile faded slightly, and something in his expression took on a bitter tone. He lifted a hand towards Taekwoon’s face but pulled back before touching him; Taekwoon caught the hand and held it—then on a whim, brought it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back. Hakyeon made a noise and Taekwoon raised an eyebrow.

“It isn’t fair,” Hakyeon said quietly.

“Tell me,” Taekwoon suggested. Hakyeon bit his lip, but another soft kiss on his hand was enough to make up his mind.

“I think I’ve been waiting for you,” Hakyeon said, voice soft. “For years, I’ve been waiting for—for this, for you, but it doesn’t even matter because I can’t have you.”

Taekwoon was melting.

“You can,” he said. “You absolutely can.”

“You’re my boss’ son.”

“So? He doesn’t care, Hakyeon. This kind of thing—he honestly wouldn’t care at all,” Taekwoon assured him. 

“Maybe he wouldn’t, but a lot of other people would,” Hakyeon said. “Favoritism—nepotism—whatever you want to call it, they’d accuse us of that.” He paused for a moment before adding quietly, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t care so much about what other people think, but—”

“You’ve built a reputation,” Taekwoon filled in. “That’s valid.”

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said, turning a dusty pink. “We should probably still... go to work though.”

“I’ll shower first,” Taekwoon said firmly. When Hakyeon gave him a questioning look, he added, “Then while you’re going, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh my god, could you be any more boyfriend material?” Hakyeon moaned, covering his face with both hands. “This is like a cheesy drama!”

Taekwoon threw off the covers, laughing as Hakyeon continued to audibly suffer behind him. He showered quickly, a little annoyed he couldn’t shave, before dressing and heading to the kitchen. Hakyeon still had some eggs left, and Taekwoon decided to make the most of this morning-after-nothing-but-almost-kind-of-something. With some careful egg cracking and maneuvering, he managed to serve a freshly-showered Hakyeon a plate with a great big obnoxious heart-shaped egg on it.

“Why are you like this,” Hakyeon asked in a flat monotone.

“Do you prefer scrambled?” Taekwoon asked with concern.

“No, I—I prefer my breakfast to not be _blatant flirtation_ ,” Hakyeon insisted.

“I thought about an omelet with a big ketchup heart, but changed my mind,” Taekwoon informed him. “I figured this would elevate me.”

“Elevate?” Hakyeon parroted.

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said with a smile. “I’ve decided: I’m not going to be boyfriend material.”

“Oh,” Hakyeon said, looking down.

“I’m going to be husband material,” Taekwoon informed him.

Hakyeon turned a bright strawberry red and covered his mouth with both hands; it was not quite enough to cover up the alarmed squeaking noise. Then he reached out with one and punched Taekwoon not-so-gently on the arm.

“Ow!”

“Cute aggression,” Hakyeon said immediately. “Sorry.” He pat the hurt area soothingly; his hand lingered just a moment too long to be friendly. The curious grope at the end was definitely not.

“Wow,” he said. “Do you work out?”

Taekwoon ducked his head shyly and poked at his eggs. He nodded once, which apparently encouraged Hakyeon to add further questions.

“Every day?” he asked, his pitch getting higher each time. “Always?” When Taekwoon just nodded again, he made a dramatic little huffing sound and went back to his plate. “Fine, keep it secret.”

“It’s not a secret,” Taekwoon mumbled. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Going to the gym is... embarrassing?”

“Going to the gym every day because I don’t have anything better to do, like—have friends or something—is embarrassing,” he said in a rush. “I don’t do it because I love it or something.”

“But you like sports,” Hakyeon reminded him.

“I like _team_ sports,” Taekwoon clarified. “But I’m done with school. There’s no team to play on.” He stared down his breakfast, as if it would somehow protect him from the shame and awkwardness that followed. He’d been comfortable in soccer; he enjoyed being part of a strong team, and relying on those people for socialization as much as exercise. It hadn’t been until he started working that he realized how much of his life he’d put into soccer that he was just never going to get to go back to.

Then Hakyeon lifted his chin with long, nimble fingers.

“Sweetheart, we have clubs,” he said gently. Taekwoon had never heard a pet name used with such a glaring lack of condescension. “Baseball is Tuesdays, soccer is Wednesdays and Fridays, and every-other-Thursday is basketball. Bowling is Mondays, our team is actually pretty good since Jaehwan convinced Wonshik to join.”

“What?” Taekwoon asked, confused. “What clubs?”

“Work clubs,” Hakyeon clarified. “We sponsor employee teams in partnership with a big sports club we have holdings in. The big center around the block? That’s where the after-work clubs meet. We get to use the facilities for basically free, and anyone in the company can join and play.”

“Do you play?” Taekwoon said with wide eyes.

“I usually join the archery tournaments, they’re about once a month. I haven’t had much time for it recently, but I like to do it,” Hakyeon explained. “Goodness, you should have said something sooner, I have everyone’s flyers in my office.”

Taekwoon suspected his face lit up, based on Hakyeon’s reaction.

“I can play soccer?” he asked, in wonder.

“On Wednesdays and Fridays,” Hakyeon confirmed. The small, smug but also warm smile on his face, was easily the highlight of Taekwoon’s week.

“I’m glad we have health insurance,” Taekwoon said. “When I go, I go hard.”

“Please don’t break your legs,” Hakyeon said urgently. “Or your arms. Or—anything, please don’t break anything.”

“More than breaking, you tend to see tearing,” Taekwoon said, but Hakyeon was looking alarmed so he pulled Hakyeon’s hand down to the table top and decided to end the topic. “Can I sign up when we get there today? Wait, how—how are we even getting there?”

“What?”

“My car won’t start, remember?” Taekwoon prodded. “Dead battery.”

“Oh,” Hakyeon said, then as problem sunk in, “Oh dear.”

Taekwoon’s jaw was hanging open in pure, undisguised shock. Jaehwan’s Porsche gleamed in the early morning light; he popped his head out the driver’s side window and grinned.

“Good morning!” he chirped. “I’ll be your Uber driver today.” Taekwoon zoomed to Hakyeon’s side, grabbing his elbow and hissing in alarm.

“You called _Jaehwan?!_ ” he whispered.

“He lives nearby!” Hakyeon protested, opening the back door and sliding in. He expected Taekwoon to vanish and take the other side, but instead he pushed his way in and forced Hakyeon to keep scooting until he was all the way across the seats. It wasn’t until Hakyeon fastened his seat belt and looked up that he noticed the passenger seat was taken.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now,” Hakyeon said in an icy deadpan. Sanghyuk attempted to sink into the seat, as if that would allow him to escape scrutiny.

“Did you know Hyukkie has been taking a _bus_ to work this whole time?” Jaehwan asked conversationally, waiting for Taekwoon to buckle up before smoothly pulling out of the parking lot. “His apartment is so close, there’s no reason to put up with public transit.”

“Han Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon said sharply.

“I didn’t ask,” Sanghyuk protested. “He volunteered!”

Hakyeon opened his mouth, ready to continue the scolding, but Taekwoon’s hand found his across the middle seat. Hakyeon looked down, and then up; Taekwoon turned his head to look him in the eye.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Hakyeon mouthed at him. Before he could answer, Jaehwan’s effervescent question cut right through.

“So what were you guys up to at your house, hyung?” he asked with an audible level of curiosity and shit-stirring. Hakyeon schooled his expression in the unlikely even Jaehawn was watching him through the rearview mirror.

“Taekwoon had car troubles,” he answered honestly.

“This morning?” Jaehwan pressed.

“Last night,” Taekwoon corrected. “I drove Hakyeon home so—” He stopped speaking abruptly when Hakyeon began to crush his hand.

“Wait,” Sanghyuk said suspiciously. “He stayed the night?”

“Should I have let him sleep in his car?” Hakyeon sniffed. “I’m not a barbarian.”

“You don’t have a guest room,” Jaehwan pointed out. Taekwoon made a choking noise that he attempted to cover up with a dramatic cough.

“I have a couch,” Hakyeon reminded Jaehwan delicately.

Sanghyuk snorted, so Hakyeon kicked the back of his seat childishly; his victim jerked forward in his seat with an ‘oof.’

“Hey, hey!” Jaehwan protested. “Not in the Porsche please!” 

“You’ve done worse in here,” Sanghyuk pointed out.

“And you would know _how_?!” Hakyeon said, lunging forward in his seat. Taekwoon put an arm in front of his chest and gently but firmly pushed him back. His hand lingered a little longer than it probably should have, and Hakyeon shot him a warning look.

“Why are we even talking about us when we could be talking about _Binnie_ and _Wonshik_?” Jaehwan asked the car as a whole. 

“Now there’s some juicy shit,” Sanghyuk agreed.

“What?” Taekwoon asked.

“Wonshik thinks he’s reeeeeeal slick with those elaborate bouquets,” Jaehwan said.

“Hongbin likes the mix tapes more,” Sanghyuk added.

“Of course he does, he’s a nerd,” Jaehwan snorted. “The flowers are a nice touch, but a CD you burned on your computer with the title written in sharpie directly on the disc? A classic.”

“Plus, this weekend,” Sanghyuk said.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear about this weekend,” Jaehwan gushed. “I hope they kiss.”

“What?!” Hakyeon squeaked.

“Again?” Sanghyuk asked.

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Hakyeon screeched.

“It doesn’t count unless you use tongue,” Jaehwan informed him.

Hakyeon was going to have a stroke. Before he could snap back and enforce some order in this chaotic environment, Taekwoon put a hand on his thigh in what he probably thought was a soothing, calming motion—but all it did was distract Hakyeon and make him uncomfortably aware of the size and warmth of his palm. He instantly memorized the placement of every single one of Taekwoon’s fingertips. 

“Are we almost there?” Hakyeon asked, hoping no one else would hear the strain in his voice. He caught Taekwoon barely hiding a snicker behind his free hand.

“Just about!” Jaehwan said, pulling into the parking garage. “Oh, look, it’s Dad!”

“Why is your dad—” Hakyeon started before Taekwoon lunged forward in his seat.

“THAT’S _MY_ DAD,” Taekwoon said, withdrawing both his hands so fast Hakyeon felt like he hadn’t even had time to blink. “Don’t let him see us!”

“GOOD MORNING SIR!” Sanghyuk yelled out of the passenger window. The CEO turned to look back, giving a friendly wave that Sanghyuk enthusiastically returned while Hakyeon and Taekwoon attempted to duck as far down in the back seat as possible.

“Good morning boys!” Mr. Jung called out. “Ah, good morning to you too, Hakyeon! Woonie!”

“G-good morning sir!” Hakyeon answered with forced cheer. 

“Is he coming over?” Taekwoon hissed. 

“Oh god,” Hakyeon said. “Yes. Yes he is.”

“Carpooling?” Mr. Jung asked as he approached the car. “How eco-friendly!”

Taekwoon was panicking. He’d gone very pale, seemed to be struggling to make eye-contact, and his breathing had gotten a bit... fast. Then Hakyeon saw his hands shaking—before Taekwoon curled them into fists. Something in his heart twinged; was this his fault? Taekwoon hadn’t seemed particularly anxious around his father before. It was only now, after they’d done some things Hakyeon emphatically insisted must be kept secret that he was having such a negative reaction.

Carefully, Hakyeon placed on hand on top of Taekwoon’s fist, and the other on his back. He took a deep, hopefully instructive breath and let it out slowly. He could feel Taekwoon’s inhale, and when he finally looked up, Hakyeon smiled at him.

“We’re okay,” he told Taekwoon softly. “Everything is fine.”

Taekwoon was still for a moment before nodding once and getting out of the car. Hakyeon followed suit from his side, and as he was pulling out his blazer, he heard Mr. Jung make a surprised sound.

“You didn’t shave?” he was asking his son. “Are you growing a beard? I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure you have the genetics for it. I certainly don’t.”

“No, I’m not—I just forgot,” Taekwoon said with a shrug. He sounded a little suspicious, but Hakyeon was fairly sure no one else noticed.

“Well, come up to my office, I’ve got extra razors, you’re welcome to one,” Mr. Jung said, patting Taekwoon on the shoulder. “Sooner rather than later, though. You look a little bit like you had a long night.”

“I—I haven’t had coffee yet,” Taekwoon protested, which only seemed to draw further attention.

“You?” Mr. Jung said, incredulous. “Walking around, talking, dressed? Without coffee? Who are you and where is my son?”

“Dad, _please_ ,” Taekwoon said, rolling his eyes. Hakyeon felt the smile on his face soften a bit more, becoming more natural. It was hard not to like Mr. Jung, for several reasons, but his genuine and affable personality was a big factor. The fact that Taekwoon responded to him like a petulant teenager was... oddly endearing. Sweet, even.

Hakyeon shook his head once to clear his thoughts.

“I’ll pop down to the canteen and get us some nice coffee,” Hakyeon offered with a chirp. Taekwoon frowned at him, but Hakyeon smiled and nodded his head in Mr. Jung’s direction. He wanted Taekwoon to go, if only so Hakyeon could have a moment to settle himself. 

“Lovely!” said Mr. Jung, taking Taekwoon’s elbow and leading him away. “Goodbye boys!”

“BYE DAD!” Jaehwan shouted, waving with his entire arm. Sanghyuk went with a more restrained wave and slight bow. When they were out of earshot, he looked at Jaehwan.

“Why do _you_ call him ‘dad’?” he asked.

“Oh, he asked me to,” Jaehwan explained. “Sometime last spring, I think? I mentioned my parents moved to a house in the countryside after they retired, so I don’t see them as often, and he offered to be my Seoul dad.”

“He’s like that,” Hakyeon said, smiling. “He likes to take care of us. Four kids wasn’t enough, I guess.”

“How many do you want then, like eight? Nine?” Sanghyuk joked, nudging him in the ribs with his elbow.

Hakyeon smiled, immediately picturing a family photo, himself standing with a gaggle of children in front of him, and immediately to his right, holding a chubby baby—

_Taekwoon?!_

Hakyeon was so flustered by the image, stark and crystal clear in his mind, in a place where previously he’d only held quietly bitter feelings about never getting to be a father—he covered his face with both hands.

“Hyung?” Sanghyuk asked quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon said, pulled his hands away and smiling. He didn’t want Sanghyuk to feel guilty, but he also didn’t want him to explore this topic any further, when Hakyeon’s emotions were already frustratingly complex. “Sorry, it’s—a bit complicated for me.”

Sanghyuk looked at him for a moment, before warmly patting his back and stepping away. Hakyeon followed him and Jaehwan into the building quietly before remembering what he’d heard about Hongbin and Wonshik. Was it true, or were Jaehwan and Sanghyuk just reading a little too much into the situation? Silently, so they wouldn’t notice, Hakyeon slipped away at the elevators and made for the stairwell. Hongbin said they’d taken a conference room between their floors, so he made for the most likely room.

Sure enough, through the single window of glass in the door, he saw Wonshik and Hongbin sitting at the table, laptops open in front of them and empty take-out containers on the table between them.

Hakyeon opened the door, ready to scold, but froze. Wonshik was asleep, head resting on his balled-up blazer jacket on the tabletop and Hakyeon’s lap blanket across his back. Even stranger, Hongbin’s right hand was very slowly, very gently petting Wonshik’s hair as he continued working on his computer. Hongbin looked up when Hakyeon opened the door; they made eye contact, and Hongbin at least had the sense to look slightly guilty.

He didn’t move his hand, though.

“Really?” Hakyeon asked, deadpan. Hongbin looked away, his gaze softening when it landed on Wonshik.

“We’ve been here all night,” Hongbin admitted. 

“What?!”

“We both left, honest, but—we came back. Separately. He had a few more ideas and I had some things to try, so we just—stayed here,” Hongbin explained, softly so as not to disturb Wonshik. “I passed out at like... three? I woke up with his jacket on my shoulders and a cushion from the lobby couches under my head.”

Hakyeon couldn’t hold back the smile; of course Wonshik would try to make him comfortable. Of course he would.

“He finally crashed about an hour ago,” Hongbin continued. “I kept telling him to nap or something, but he said no. Then he just couldn’t hold it off anymore.”

“Did something happen with you two?” Hakyeon asked point-blank. Hongbin looked up at him, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

“I have nothing to say,” Hongbin informed him. Hakyeon considered pushing the issue, but Wonshik mumbled something in his sleep and Hongbin’s attention snapped back to him. He adjusted the blanket, pulling it a bit higher and tucking in the edges a little. It was odd to see Hongbin, someone who really enjoyed the ‘alone in a basement’ kind of nerd vibe, being so comfortable and warm with another person.

It was Wonshik, so Hakyeon supposed he wasn’t _that_ surprised.

“We may have found something,” Hongbin said, turning back to Hakyeon. “I sent you the links about an hour ago.”

“Really!?” Hakyeon said, straightening up. “I’ll go take a look.” He turned to leave, but just before the door closed, he glanced back.

Hongbin’s hand was back on Wonshik’s head. As much as he wanted to disapprove... Hakyeon couldn’t help but smile.

Taekwoon accepted the disposable razor from his father in semi-awkward silence. He wasn’t sure if he was about to be questioned, so he couldn’t help but glance sideways nervously as he approached the sink.

“Listen,” his father said with a friendly pat on the shoulder, “If you want to try a beard, do it over a holiday period so you can get as much growth as possible before other people see. I should warn you, I couldn’t grow one in a year, so I wouldn’t be too hopeful for you.”

“I’m not trying to grow a beard, Dad,” Taekwoon assured him. “I just—didn’t have time to shave.”

“Is that also why you’re wearing the same thing as yesterday?” his father asked with a smile. Taekwoon froze.

“I’m—that’s—I just—”

The hand on his shoulder gave a hearty pat to match the equally hearty laugh.

“I won’t ask for details,” his dad assured him with an exaggerated wink. “I just hope you had a nice time.”

“ _Dad,_ ” Taekwoon said, flushing deeply.

“You’re being safe, aren’t you?” his father asks quietly. “Do you need condoms?”

“ _DAD,_ ” Taekwoon said with great alarm. His father burst into laughter and Taekwoon fought the overwhelming urge to simply flee the office without saying another word. Instead, he finished shaving and cleaned up. When his father handed him a steaming latte, he took a sip without making eye contact.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” his father said, sitting at his desk. “I have your next assignment.”

Taekwoon felt his stomach drop.

“My what?” 

“I got a call from the German branch; they’re sending their most senior manager, Herr Hecker. He’s going to spend at least a month here, so I want you to help him get settled and show him around,” Mr. Jung explained. “This will be Herr Hecker’s first time in this country, so I expect he’ll have a lot of questions.”

“But—but I’ve been in HR—”

“For long enough,” his father interrupted. “Hakyeon has been very patient with you, I’ll make sure it’s reflected in his next performance evaluation.”

Taekwoon didn’t even think; he put both hands down on his father’s desk with a slam.

“You can’t move me,” he said firmly. “Hakyeon—Hakyeon needs me.”

“Cha Hakyeon is a very capable man who has managed this long without you just fine,” his father informed him with a raised eyebrow.

“That was before,” Taekwoon said without thinking. 

“Before?” 

Taekwoon immediately felt the flush rising again. He didn’t want to look away though; it was more important that his father understood Taekwoon intended to stay with Hakyeon. He didn’t give a damn about some German; he knew where he was meant to be. He ran through passionate declarations in his head, trying to decide on the best way to insist, without room for argument, that there was nowhere in the world he belonged _except_ with Hakyeon.

“Your transfer will kick it at the end of the week,” his father said, filling the silence. “You’ll have plenty of time to wrap up whatever projects Hakyeon gave you.”

He realized with a sinking feeling of defeat that even if he had protested, it wouldn’t have made sense. It wasn’t like he was being told he could never see Hakyeon again, they just wouldn’t work together directly anymore. It was far from a banishment.

That didn’t change the way he felt, though.

“Any updates on the data breach?” his father asked him calmly, as if he hadn’t just driven a stake through Taekwoon’s heart.

“Maybe,” Taekwoon said. “I—I don’t know.”

“Well, keep me in the loop,” his father said in what was clearly a dismissal. Taekwoon’s feet carried him away from the desk, out the door, and into the elevator in silence. It was hard to get a grasp on what he was feeling, partly because every thought he had involved the way his heart lifted just by seeing Hakyeon smile and how much duller and less interesting his life would be when he wasn’t guaranteed to see it on a daily basis.

He arrived at Hakyeon’s office, but his hand lingered on the door knob without turning it. It felt like agreement with his father’s plan.

“Oh,” Hakyeon said from behind him. “You’re back already?” Taekwoon turned around and felt his heart flip over. Hakyeon was smiling so softly, exactly the way he was increasingly realizing he craved the sight of. Hakyeon reached out one hand and ran it down Taekwoon’s jaw.

“Smooth,” Hakyeon commented, his eyes following his own fingertips. Taekwoon caught his hand before it left his face, turning it to bring the back of Hakyeon’s palm to his lips, a mirror of that morning. He didn’t even know what he really meant by it except that he wanted to make that memory last as long as he could, knowing there was an end date looming over them.

Hakyeon pulled his hand back and looked nervously over his shoulder.

“We’re still _in the hallway_ ,” he hissed, reaching around Taekwoon for the door and shooing him inside. As soon as Hakyeon had the door closed behind them, Taekwoon walked him back against it; Hakyeon sighed, throwing one arm over his shoulder.

“Déjà vu,” Taekwoon said, pressing their bodies together as closely as he dared. He just wanted to be close, so close that if he closed his eyes tonight he would feel like he was here again. Suddenly every second and every breath felt more important than it had before.

“You wish,” Hakyeon sniffed, tapping him on the chest with one finger. “I don’t recall you getting a squish this close.”

“I did,” Taekwoon insisted petulantly, “When you were still asleep.”

“I thought you were asleep too,” Hakyeon said with a frown.

“I was,” Taekwoon assured him. “Mostly.”

Before Hakyeon could address him more sternly, the door thumped against his back as someone tried to open it from the outside. Taekwoon sprang away when Hakyeon squeaked in alarm. As soon as they were clear, the door popped open and Mina stuck her head in.

“Cha-ssi?” she asked. “Do you have a moment?” Hakyeon was settling into his chair before Taekwoon could even blink, smiling warmly at her.

“Of course,” he said. “Have a seat.” Taekwoon gestured at the chair closest to the desk, and Mina smiled at him before taking it. Grabbing another nearby seat, Taekwoon scooted it in Hakyeon’s direction.

“I got this fifteen minutes ago,” Mina informed Hakyeon with a dark expression as she handed over her phone. His expression twisted darkly; the disgust was evident on his face, leaving Taekwoon in no doubt of the content.

“This is your new account?” he asked; she nodded, twisting her hands together in her lap.

“I didn’t give it to him,” she said, but Hakyeon shook his head immediately.

“Of course you didn’t,” he said. “Is it alright if I...” Hakyeon gestured the phone towards Taekwoon; she nodded and he passed it over. He really didn’t _want_ to see, but he suspected Hakyeon wanted him to see it for a reason. Sure enough... there it was. Taekwoon felt a flare of anger; it was bad enough to send one of these uninvited, but this creep had now continued the harassment through three different addresses. It was so blatantly abusive and deliberately sent with the intent of making her uncomfortable—if not _scared._

Then his eye caught something in the background. Taekwoon squinted, then resigned himself to zooming in. What was it? Why did he feel like he knew where this was?

Hakyeon’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Let’s call the police,” he was saying. Mina bit her lip, clearly hesitant; Hakyeon’s voice softened. “I realize it’s scary, but this is a crime now. You’ve gone out of your way not to get these, and he’s continued despite _knowing_ that. It’s harassment.”

Mina dropped her head. Hakyeon didn’t push her for a response, but Taekwoon felt like these was something she wasn’t saying.

“That’s not it, is it,” Taekwoon asked, feeling the anger flare again. Mina clenched her fists, then looked up.

“He—he was at my apartment building yesterday,” she said, clearly holding back fury. “He rang my neighbor’s bell instead of mine. I didn’t open the door for another three hours, because I wasn’t sure if he’d still be there.” 

Hakyeon met her eyes, then stood up from the desk. He put a hand on Taekwoon’s shoulder as he passed by, going to his bookshelf and pulling out a file. When he returned to his chair with a heavy stack of papers, he spoke and he searched through the pile.

“I haven’t had to do this yet, but I thought the day might come, and here we are,” he said calmly, pulling out a sheet and turning to face Mina.

“What—this is—”

“The steps for filing a restraining order,” Hakyeon said, pointing out the relevant title text.

“Why do you just—have that?” Taekwoon asked, startled by Hakyeon’s fairly calm demeanor. He shrugged.

“My second sister had a weird... ‘friend’ is a strong word,” Hakyeon explained. “It took about eight months of ‘bumping into each other’ for her to feel justified in filing the first restraining order. She ended up filing four over the next two years. She moved six times, changed jobs three times, and lived with our oldest sister in Japan for a month just to shake him for good.”

“Oh my god,” Mina said, horrified. “Two _years?!_ ”

“He was criminally persistent,” Hakyeon said. “I don’t think this idiot has that kind of tenacity or menace, he’s just an extremely empowered sentient slime.”

“But you think I need this?”

“I think you would find relief in it,” Hakyeon clarified. “This gives you the power to automatically be in the right when calling the police if he so much as breathes at you. It draws a very clear legal line that says you want absolutely nothing to do with him; he can’t claim that you were ‘leading him on’—not that any sane human would say that, but you know what I mean—because this says you want him far, far away.”

Mina took it, reading the guide in silence before looking up.

“Do you think Sanghyuk would go with me to file it?” she asked. Hakyeon blinked.

“Sanghyuk?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s very nice. And very huge.”

“He is, isn’t he,” Hakyeon agreed, although Taekwoon wasn’t sure which sentiment he was referring to. He supposed it didn’t really matter; both were true. Taekwoon pictured very dainty Mina at a courthouse with outwardly-imposing Sanghyuk next to her and had to admit, it made her much less approachable.

“I think he will,” Taekwoon said. “Just ask him.”

“We could probably call him if you—” Hakyeon began, but Mina shook her head.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll ask,” she said, standing. Taekwoon handed her back the phone; she held it and the paper close to her chest. “Thank you for all the help.”

“Any time,” Hakyeon said warmly, also standing and slipping past Taekwoon so he could open the door for her. “Really, if you need anything else, please let me know.” For the first time, she smiled back and took her exit; Hakyeon let the door close behind her. Taekwoon only knew he was frowning because Hakyeon pressed his fingertip between Taekwoon’s eyebrows.

“You’re thinking,” Hakyeon commented.

“I just—feel like I’ve seen that before.” When Hakyeon looked alarmed, he quickly clarified, “I mean, the place it was taken. The background. It looked weirdly familiar.”

“You were paying attention to the background?”

“Better than the old man dick.”

“Fair,” Hakyeon said. “Ugh, what a nasty human.”

Taekwoon dropped his head to shudder, but froze.

“Hakyeon,” he said, a chill going down his spine. “Hakyeon, look.”

“What?”

“The carpet.”

“What about the carpet?” Hakyeon asked, sounding confused.

“This is the carpet! The picture had this carpet in it!” Taekwoon said, jumping to his feet. “This exact carpet!”

“Okay?” Hakyeon said, still visibly confused but willing to listen, “Grey swirly carpet?”

“No!” Taekwoon said firmly. He put his hands on Hakyeon’s shoulders. “This carpet is _special._ You can’t get it just anywhere, it’s not even from Asia.”

“What? Where’s it from then?”

“In 1992, my dad was on a trip to Arizona; the hotel’s fire alarm went off in the middle of the night and everyone had to leave, but it was fine because the hotel had special carpet that doesn’t burn, it just melts and smokes a little. My dad was so impressed by it he found the manufacturer and ordered directly from him for all his buildings. He loves this stuff, he’ll tell literally anyone who will listen that it’s flame-retardant and barely shows stains and how he wants to be buried in it!” Taekwoon said. He paused for a moment to catch his breath; he didn’t say that much in one go very often.

“So...?”

“So that photo was taken _in this building_ ,” Taekwoon said, squeezing. “ _Today._ ”

Hakyeon’s eyes went wide.

“He shouldn’t have access,” Hakyeon said. “I revoked his security clearance immediately. Are we sure it was today?”

“Unless he stockpiled dick pics he took at the office.”

“Oh my god, is that a thing? Do people do that?” Hakyeon asked in alarm. Taekwoon held up both hands defensively.

“Why would you think _I_ know?!” he shot back. “Do I look like someone who’s ever sent a single dick pic in his entire life?”

“I’m not saying _that_ ,” Hakyeon snorted. “I just figured you might... have some insight...”

“Into dick pic culture?!”

“You know what, never mind. Forget it. Sorry. Let’s get back to—god, today? You think he took it today?”

“It was definitely in the office, but I guess it could be older...” Taekwoon admitted. It was gross either way, but they were somewhat forced to think about it way more than either of them would like.

Hakyeon grimaced.

“I really, really hate to say this, but I think we need Hongbin on this,” Hakyeon said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wish we could get by without exposing him to it, but he might be able to get more from the image.”

“I can ask my dad to give him a raise,” Taekwoon offered. He had no idea if it would work, but he’d give it a shot.

“He needs therapy, not cash,” Hakyeon sighed. “With the breach, there’s no way anyone will write off on outsourcing this. I’m not sure it’s even legal to request analysis of an explicit photo. This is really turning into a shitfest.”

Taekwoon stared at him, startled by the profanity. Hakyeon frowned at him.

“Do you have a better word for it?” he asked, defensive. Taekwoon shook his head; ‘shitfest’ definitely covered it. Hakyeon plopped into his chair and reached for the desk phone; he started to dial one number, then hung up and tried another.

“Jaehwan,” he said when that person picked up, “where are Binnie and Wonshik right now?”

“Here!” Taekwoon could hear Jaehwan chirp. “In my office.”

“You have an office?” Hakyeon asked, then immediately seemed to decide not to question it. “Can you send Binnie over?” 

“Sure thing,” Jaehwan said. “He’ll be right up!”

Hakyeon hung up, then looked at Taekwoon with a bone weariness he hadn’t seen before.

“Is it too late for pastries today?” he asked, smiling as best he could. Taekwoon’s heart ached for him, and he put a warm hand on Hakyeon’s shoulder.

They’d get through this. Somehow.

The last thing Hakyeon was expecting when he summoned Hongbin was for him to be accompanied by an unusually serious Wonshik. His eyes immediately snapped to Wonshik’s hand on Hongbin’s elbow, following him all the way to sitting in a chair before grabbing one for himself. He looked at Hakyeon, daring him to comment.

Hakyeon opened his mouth, then closed it again. Considering what he was about to do, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to have someone supportive nearby.

“Okay, so—first of all, I’m sorry,” he said. Hongbin raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry I have to ask you to do this, and if you don’t want to, that’s—that’s fine, we’ll figure something else out.”

“What’s going on?” Hongbin asked, his tone laced with suspicion. 

“Mina got another one,” Taekwoon said before Hakyeon had the chance. Hongbin stiffened in his chair; Wonshik’s hand was on his shoulder blade, rubbing in a little soothing circle. 

“Taekwoon thinks it was taken today.”

“And?”

“He also thinks it was taken here, inside the building,” Hakyeon added. 

Hongbin went pale.

“He—he got in?” he asked, low. Hakyeon shook his head.

“We don’t know, but the possibility is there.”

“You want me to look at the metadata, don’t you,” Hongbin said. “Figure out when the image was created, even location it was taken if I can.”

“Anything you can get from it helps,” Hakyeon assured him. “But again, if you don’t want to—”

“Whether or not I want to is a completely moot point here,” Hongbin said firmly. “If he’s a security risk on top of being absolute scum, we need to know. I’m assuming it’s in her new inbox?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said, before quickly adding, “I’m really sorry.” Hongbin shook his head.

“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.” He pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up, heading to the door; Wonshik was about to follow, but Hakyeon cleared his throat.

“Wonshik, could I have a word?” he asked, aware he sounded stiff and prim. Wonshik looked at him, then immediately to Hongbin. Hongbin set his jaw, turning his back to the door.

“I’ll wait,” he said tightly. Hakyeon sighed; he should have known Hongbin wasn’t going to make this easy. 

“I’d rather you take Taekwoon and show him where you’re working out of, so we know where to find you,” Hakyeon said firmly. Hongbin hesitated, just long enough for Hakyeon to know it was still an issue. Taekwoon also looked less than pleased by the announcement, and shot Hakyeon a hurt look. Hakyeon smiled warmly at them both, waving them away with a hand.

“I’ll be fine,” Wonshik told Hongbin, “Meet you there.” Hongbin slumped, then nodded, leading Taekwoon out of the office.

Hakyeon took a deep breath. He wasn’t really sure where to start with this one; he felt like he was being pulled in several directions, and each one made sense in totally contradictory ways. Adding on a generous heap of guilt for calling out behavior he was not that far off from himself—it felt far too close to hypocrisy for comfort.

“Before you say anything,” Wonshik said quietly, “Put it all on me.”

“Put what on you, Wonshik?” Hakyeon asked, just as quiet.

Wonshik looked at him, collecting his thoughts. To Hakyeon, Wonshik always gave the impression of someone who was functioning on multiple levels at any given time. The top layers were fairly lightweight, frivolous things with a goofy, easy-going kind of feeling. Going a little deeper, Wonshik was methodical and deliberate; he thought his actions through, reflected on this situation and made a decision only after careful judgment. 

It made this problem all the more serious, because as far as Hakyeon could tell, either Wonshik didn’t think it through in the slightest—or he had, and had decided to go for it anyway.

“We’ve talked about this,” Hakyeon started.

“It’s different,” Wonshik said simply. When he failed to elaborate, Hakyeon prompted him with a nod. “He’s—he’s different. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

Wonshik dropped his head.

“I don’t... mean much to people,” Wonshik confessed. “Not many people are—not many have really, honestly gotten that much from a relationship of any kind with me.”

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon said, heartsore, “that’s not true.”

“It is,” Wonshik insisted. “I’m not saying people hate me, I’m just saying if I stopped turning up tomorrow, I can count the number of people who would notice on my hands, and if I just count the people who would _care_ , I’d have fingers left over.”

“Wonshik—”

“He’d care,” Wonshik said. “Hongbin would care, and I think he’d be sad, and I think he’d miss me. That’s—new. Important.”

Hakyeon wasn’t sure how to even reply to such a definitive statement. He disagreed on the topic of people caring, but he couldn’t sit there and argue that Wonshik was wrong about Hongbin, or that Wonshik’s feelings weren’t valid. The mere fact that he was sitting at Hakyeon’s desk, fully prepared to be officially disciplined just because he felt like there was something of value in the budding relationship—something worth breaking the rules to invest in—

It was a confidence and commitment that Hakyeon almost envied.

“I’m not saying I don’t understand,” Hakyeon told him. “I’m not even saying I, personally, object. But it’s still against—”

“Then how would you prove it?” Wonshik interrupted him. Hakyeon blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“How would you prove I’ve broken any policies?” he pressed, looking up with a new, burning expression. “Neither of us has ever indicated to you in any way that we have done anything wrong. You have no witnesses, no evidence, and you won’t get a concrete answer from either of us. If you launched an investigation _right now_ , you’d get absolutely nothing.”

“Is that because there’s nothing to get?”

“No comment.”

“Wonshik.”

“No comment.”

“Hongbin told me.”

Wonshik frowned, then shook his head.

“Hyung, no offense, but it sounds like you’re fishing,” Wonshik said, before tilting his head and adding in a forcibly innocent tone, “Or projecting; are you sure you got enough sleep last night?”

Hakyeon felt his jaw unhinge. Wonshik grinned.

“If we’re done here, I’ve got some work to do,” he said, pushing his chair back. “See you later!” He was darting out the door before Hakyeon was even close to getting his composure back; Taekwoon had apparently not taken the direction of ‘go with Hongbin’ very seriously, because he came through almost the instant Wonshik left.

“You didn’t fire him, did you?” Taekwoon asked urgently.

“He knows,” Hakyeon said, putting his face in his hands. “I have no idea how, but _Wonshik knows._ ”

“About... you firing him?”

“About _us_ ,” Hakyeon clarified. “I didn’t fire him. I couldn’t. He’s right, I don’t have any evidence, just hearsay.”

“That’s great!” Taekwoon said, brightening. Hakyeon groaned and put his head down on his desk.

“That’s awful?” Taekwoon attempted to correct, rushing forward to pat Hakyeon’s head reassuringly. “Sorry, I’m confused, did you want to fire them?”

“ _No,_ ” Hakyeon said, “but I _should._ Well, not fire them. But some sort of disciplinary action.”

“Is that really necessary?” Taekwoon asked, sounding skeptical. “It’s just dating.”

“This isn’t just some sort of buzzkill lip-service to decency,” Hakyeon said, standing up. He needed to move, to work some of the building anxiety out of his limbs. He started pacing up and down the office, wringing his hands. “This policy exists to prevent abuse, harassment, favoritism—look how many relationships end badly. What if you had to turn around and go to work and face that person every day? Doesn’t that sound like absolute hell? Then that discomfort radiates until the entire department is wrapped up in personal drama.”

“They don’t _all_ end badly,” Taekwoon said softly.

“That’s not the point!” Hakyeon said. “It doesn’t matter if some of these would hypothetically work out. It’s a risk, it’s a _huge_ risk, peoples’ livelihoods at stake, who on earth could feel perfectly comfortable putting their momentary desires ahead of that!?”

He almost did.

Every word weighed on him more. The consequences, the stakes, the complications—his shoulders were so heavy. He braced on hand on his desk and let his face fall, finally still.

“So... I guess you think I’m pretty shit, then,” Taekwoon said, whisper soft. Hakyeon’s head jerked up.

“What?! No, I—”

“But that’s what you said,” Taekwoon repeated. “The person who would—would choose themselves. That person is reprehensible.”

“Taekwoon—”

Hakyeon fully believed Taekwoon now when he said he’d been an athlete; the speed at which he moved felt superhuman. He backed Hakyeon up against the desk until he had to shoot his hands out behind him to catch himself. Taekwoon came in even closer, taking Hakyeon’s chin in his hand and bringing their faces so close he could feel Taekwoon’s breath.

“Waking up in your bed, in your clothes, with you in my arms, was the rightest thing I’ve ever felt,” he said, voice pitched lower than usual. 

Then, just as quickly as he was there, Taekwoon was stepping back.

“If that’s wrong… then sorry,” he said, turning his back. “but I guess I’d rather be wrong.”

Hakyeon had just enough time to see the hurt in his eyes before he left the office, not even glancing back. Hakyeon put his hand over his face.

“Fuck.”

Taekwoon’s feet carried him in what felt like an aimless path; one foot, then the other, just moving forward with the intent of getting as much distance as possible between himself and the source of this bone-deep ache in his ribcage.

He already knew Hakyeon was reluctant, but he’d been foolish enough—hopeful, maybe?—that they’d stumbled their way into a solution. Instead, Hakyeon was crumbling inside.

Because of him.

It wasn’t like he was any less of a mess himself; the floating happiness of that morning was starting to get sharp around the edges, and every return visit left him cut a little bit deeper. He _knew_ he should just give up and let Hakyeon lead the life he clearly loved, without Taekwoon there to fuck it all up. That was obvious. It would be better to bow out for good.

_I think I’ve been waiting for you._

Taekwoon stopped dead.

_For years, I’ve been waiting for—for this, for you, but it doesn’t even matter because I can’t have you._

What the hell was he doing?! Hadn’t Hakyeon just told him this morning that he wanted this?! How could Taekwoon have forgotten it so quickly? 

How could he reduce Hakyeon’s anxiety, and still be the person he wanted to come home to?

Taekwoon pushed open his father’s office door without knocking, again. His father looked up from his desk, smiling warmly.

“Woonie, back so soon?” he asked.

“That transfer, to help the German guy?” Taekwoon asked, feeling a pit in his stomach as every word left his mouth. “Can that start now?”

“Herr Hecker isn’t here yet,” his father reminded him, but something in Taekwoon’s face must have signaled more than he was saying, because his father’s expression softened. “But if you’d like to move on, then I’m sure that’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said. “Moving on. I want—I want to move on.”

“Would you like me to inform Hakyeon?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I’ll do it.” He turned, mission accomplished, but he was interrupted.

“Taekwoon,” his father said, in a voice that was slightly sharper than usual, “Is this really the way you want it?”

Taekwoon pulled himself up to his full height.

“Positive,” he said firmly. This seemed to satisfy his father, because he smiled again and made a shooing gesture before turning back to his work. Taekwoon turned around and made for Hakyeon’s office at a clip; the sooner he did this, the better.

He threw open Hakyeon’s door to find him sitting, dejected, staring blankly at his computer screen. Honestly, how he could even attempt to get work done with all of these feelings going around, Taekwoon had no clue. If it was him—and he supposed it was him, too—he’d sit there in a daze for hours. Taekwoon planted his hand on the desk with a heavy thump, startling Hakyeon.

“I’m transferring departments,” Taekwoon said firmly.

“What?” Hakyeon said, eyes wide and confused. “When?” Taekwoon took a moment to take in the alarm in Hakyeon’s voice; this plan would work. It had to.

“Now,” Taekwoon said. He watched Hakyeon’s expression fall, then his head dropped.

“I’m sure you’ll do very well,” Hakyeon said quietly, clenching his hands into fists. Taekwoon reached out and lifted his chin, forcing Hakyeon to look him in the eye. He wanted to be certain Hakyeon was listening.

“Cha Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said. “Wait a little longer.”

Hakyeon bit his lip. Taekwoon leaned forward; it was a bit of a stretch across the desk, but he placed a soft, chaste kiss on Hakyeon’s forehead.

“Please,” he added in a near whisper. Before he got out of reach, Hakyeon’s hand shot up to grip him firmly by the neck tie and yank him down again.

“How long?” Hakyeon demanded, pulling.

“I don’t know,” Taekwoon said with a pout. “However long it takes you to give up?”

“You’re transferring because you think it will make me—”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Taekwoon reminded him, trying in vain to unwrap Hakyeon’s fingers before he choked. Hakyeon groaned and released him, putting his face in his hands.

“Get out of my office,” Hakyeon told him. “You’re a foul temptress and I need a break.”

“Can I have a goodbye kiss?”

“ _I said, get out._ ”

“See you when you cave!” Taekwoon said in a cheery tone, practically skipping through the doorway.

This was perfect. If Hakyeon was even half as gone as Taekwoon, he wouldn’t last a day. After directions from the receptionist, Taekwoon relocated his things to Wonshik’s office space; while the rest of the building had a more traditional layout of a handful of closed offices sprinkled around cubicles, PR did thing a bit differently. One shared office had a door and phone, but everyone else was scattered around an open-concept design. Some people had standing desks; some were sunk into beanbags with headphones on. Despite the laid-back vibe, everyone seemed extremely focused on their work.

Hongbin and Wonshik had settled in the shared, closed office; Taekwoon was just about to knock when someone stood up in the middle of the main space and clapped his hands loudly.

“Break time!” he called across the room. “Everybody take a walk, stretch a little!”

“Hyung, I’m literally in the middle of this release,” one young man complained from a beanbag. “Can I just—”

“Nope,” the first man said. “Get up, Inseob. Chiwoong, can you check on them?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Wonshik and Hongbin. One of the guys sitting at a desk perked up, and started to stand, but Taekwoon waved a hand.

“I’ll do it,” he volunteered. “I need to go in anyway.”

“Wait, sorry, who are you?” the first man asked.

“Um,” Taekwoon said, his shyness hitting him like a train going 1000km an hour. “I’m—Jung Taekwoon, I was—I’m here to—um—”

He was saved from more awkward stammering by Wonshik opening the closed office door. He looked exhausted, but still smiled warmly at Taekwoon.

“What’s up?” he asked Taekwoon. “Got news?”

“Wonshik,” the other guy called out. “Break time.”

“Daehyun I’m kind of in the middle—”

“ _Break time_ ,” Daehyun insisted, “Don’t make me drag you out of there again.”

“Let’s grab some coffee!” Wonshik chirped, putting a hand firmly on Taekwoon’s shoulder. Looking back, he called out to Hongbin. “You want anything?”

“Yes,” Hongbin said without looking up from his computer. “Bleach. For my eyes. A minimum of two litres.”

“I’ll find you a banana,” Wonshik said as if this was nothing unusual. As they headed out into the open-concept room, the guy (Chiwoong?) that was supposed to get Wonshik’s attention before raised his hand and waved it wildly.

“Hyung! Can I have a fruit cup?” he asked. Suddenly the entire room burst into orders.

“Banana,” Inseob said. “Alternatively, muffin.”

“Popcorn! The big one, not the normal one!” said a kid who was definitely an intern.

“Venti mint mocha latte, soy, no foam,” Daehyun rattled off, “And Woosung is banned from popcorn until he learns to chew with his mouth closed.” Woosung sank into his beanbag, and Wonshik pat his head as he walked by.

“I’ll bring you chips,” he promised.

“Chips are _louder_ ,” Inseob complained. Wonshik just laughed and continued steering Taekwoon out towards the nearest cafeteria. Once they hit the hallway, Taekwoon looked back over his shoulder.

“How did you get everything set up like that?” he asked curiously. 

“Tech companies have been doing that for a while,” Wonshik shrugged. “Honestly a lot of people hate it, but our department is pretty small and we all liked it so it just works for us.”

“Even the beanbags?”

“I can’t sit in them; every time I try, the other guys pretend they can’t see or hear me and just sit on me,” Wonshik complained with a pout. “Last time they also started sitting on each other, so I ended up at the bottom of a stack of three people and Daehyun had to lure them away with M&Ms to free me.”

“That sounds scary,” Taekwoon informed him. Wonshik shrugged and laughed; he cruised through the counters, picking up snacks and handing them to Taekwoon to hold. At the barista counter, he ordered Daehyun’s drink with conviction, then very kindly added a simple latte for him. He also grabbed a pack of sandwiches.

“Binnie is going to try and skip lunch again,” Wonshik explained. “Not on my watch.”

“Hakyeon doesn’t want to fire you,” Taekwoon blurted out.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Wonshik said. “He hates firing people.” After a pause, he added, “Also, he hates being a hypocrite.” 

“Hakyeon’s not a hypocrite,” Taekwoon insisted firmly, standing in front of Wonshik and forcing them to stop dead.

“I know,” Wonshik said with a sigh, pushing Taekwoon’s shoulder to turn him around again, but Taekwoon refused to budge.

“I want him to be a hypocrite,” Taekwoon informed him. Wonshik blinked at him before sighing again, and resuming the pushing.

“I’m sure you’re having a great time with him, but I really don’t want details, so—”

“We’re not,” Taekwoon clarified. “I mean. We did, but also, we didn’t.” Wonshik didn’t seem any less convinced, so Taekwoon dug in his heels. “I tried to get him to kiss me but he said no. He’s being really stubborn about it.”

“It kind of sounds like he rejected you,” Wonshik said, raising an eyebrow. “If you can’t take ‘no’ for an answer—” Taekwoon bristled immediately.

“Not like that,” he said, allowing himself to be steered back towards Hongbin. “He clearly wanted to, but he was all worked up over these stupid company rules about dating.” Wonshik passed the drink to Daehyun and tossed the snacks over the open space before following Taekwoon in; Hongbin was still working on his laptop, and the only sign that he’d even noticed them returning was a quick glance and a miniscule nod.

“So what’s your plan?” Wonshik asked, settling back into his own chair and laptop. Taekwoon slumped into a third chair, sulky.

“I’m going to make him miss me,” Taekwoon said. Hongbin snorted.

“You think very highly of your presence,” he said. “Maybe scale it back a bit.”

“No, this will work,” Taekwoon insisted with deep conviction. “I already almost had him.”

“Listen,” Hongbin said in a tone that suggested he wasn’t buying it, “I’ve known Hakyeon a long time. He doesn’t fall for that kind of stuff; once he draws a line, that’s it. Done. He never goes back on his word.”

 _Because he was waiting,_ Taekwoon reminded himself internally; Hongbin sounded convincing, but the Hakyeon in his memory, warm and wanting, was much more powerful.

“Anyway,” he said, adjusting his slouch in the chair, “Can I help with anything?”

Wonshik and Hongbin looked at him in dead silence.

“Uh,” Wonshik said after a moment, “No offense, but word around the company is that you’re... not really... help—”

“You’re borderline useless,” Hongbin cut in brutally. When Wonshik shot him a look of panic, he added in an incredibly flat tone, “Allegedly.”

Taekwoon sighed. This was going to be a very long wait.

Hakyeon was 90% sure that his clock was broken. Not just the clock, either. His watch, his calendar, and the computer were also all clearly faulty. There as no other explanation for why the hours were absolutely crawling forward when time was whizzing past so quickly Hakyeon would be hard-pressed to even remember what he’d done. When he tapped his pen impatiently on his desk, Sanghyuk looked up.

“Hyung,” Sanghyuk said. “Please.”

“What?!”

“Stop twitching.”

“I’m not _twitching_ ,” Hakyeon huffed.

“Fine,” Sanghyuk said. “Stop pining.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s been gone—” Sanghyuk glanced at his own watch, “—not even three hours and you keep looking at the clock like you want to kill it.”

Sanghyuk’s watch was also clearly broken.

“I am not pining,” Hakyeon insisted.

“Good, because I really don’t want to hear about it,” Sanghyuk said.

“It’s not like I _miss_ him, he wasn’t even here that long. We barely know each other. Sure we’ve—we spent time together after work but—he’s still basically a stranger so I couldn’t possibly—”

“This is me, still not wanting to hear about it, but hearing about it anyway,” Sanghyuk grumbled, flipping through the stack of resumes he’d been assigned to sort. 

The door burst open, and for a heartbeat, Hakyeon thought it was Taekwoon. Instead, an absolutely glowing Jaehwan sashayed into the office, humming. When he saw Hakyeon’s expression fall, he frowned.

“Why are you not delighted by my presence?” Jaehwan asked. “My presence is always delightful.”

“I’m delighted!” Sanghyuk assured him. 

“I’m—”

“Still hung up on the one that got away, clearly,” Jaehwan said, sitting on Sanghyuk’s lap. To his credit, Sanghyuk put both hands in the air and looked alarmed. Jaehwan pouted at him.

“What?”

“I would really like to not get fired before I’m even technically fired,” Sanghyuk informed him. Jaehwan sighed and relocated to another chair—Taekwoon’s chair, to be specific. Hakyeon felt a pang of sadness which he quickly squashed.

“Back to your love life,” Jaehwan said.

“I don’t have one,” Hakyeon said just a bit too quickly. Sanghyuk rolled his eyes and Jaehwan leaned forward across the desk.

“Yeah, but you could!” he said excitedly. “He’s hot and rich and likes you, what are you waiting for?!”

“He’s being stubborn about the fraternization thing,” Sanghyuk explained.

“I’m—look, we’re all at work, we should be doing work and getting work done.” Hakyeon was really not ready to go down this track with Jaehwan right now; he had a habit of seeing right through Hakyeon and there were other things he needed to focus on.

“How is dating someone antithetical to all of that work?” Jaehwan asked. “I mean, look at how much we got done when you two were just flirting all the time.”

“ _Enough_ ,” Hakyeon said firmly. Jaehwan sighed dramatically, but seemed to give up, changing the subject to an up-coming staff event he was already planning to crash.

Somehow, Hakyeon made it all the way to six o’clock. As soon as Sanghyuk left, Hakyeon shoved everything into his briefcase, threw on his coat, and waited. He knew Taekwoon would come see him; there’s no way he’d be able to just leave without saying goodbye.

Five after six. Taekwoon must have gotten stuck in the elevator.

Ten after six. He couldn’t find his keys, probably.

Quarter after six. Long wait in the restroom.

When six-thirty hit with no sign of the tall glass of water Hakyeon had been longing for all god damn day, Hakyeon threw himself down in his chair, rebooted his computer, pulled up Taekwoon’s personnel file, punched in his cell number and called.

It rang six times before Hakyeon gave up.

He felt so stupid. What was he even hoping for? That Taekwoon would turn up and tempt him? That he’d continue to stubbornly pursue even after Hakyeon had explicitly rejected him? That he’d—

Care?

When Hakyeon got back to his car, he threw everything in, then rested his forehead on the steering wheel. 

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him. He fumbled it in his hurry to answer, nearly dropping it under the seat; he had to fish it out quickly.

“Hello?” he said, realizing much too late that he sounded breathless.

“Hi,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon swore he could hear a smile in it. “You rang?”

“I did,” Hakyeon agreed. “I mean. I was hope—I thought maybe you would—since the day is over, you know, and we’re off the clock—”

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said, sounding incredibly smug, “Do you miss me yet?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? It sounds like you miss me.”

“I do not miss you,” Hakyeon said. “I—I just—I’ve... gotten used to you.”

“Mmhm.”

“We’ve spent a lot of time together.”

“Yes.”

“...Do you miss me?” Hakyeon asked. The question came out unexpectedly soft.

“Always,” Taekwoon said, sending a flurry of excited butterflies through Hakyeon’s heart. “It’s kind of sad though.”

“Sad?”

“Yeah. Because you don’t miss me at all...”

“I do,” Hakyeon said suddenly. “I—I—”

“You, you?” Taekwoon teased.

“...I miss you.”

“Go home, Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said, chuckling. “Get some sleep.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

“Jerk.”

“Well now I _really_ won’t come see you.”

“Are you having fun with Wonshik?”

“His intern gave me sour gummy worms,” Taekwoon said as if this answered the question. Hakyeon once again found himself falling silent, just listening to the sound of Taekwoon’s breathing.

“Go home, Hakyeon,” Taekwoon repeated.

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Hakyeon drove home without turning on the radio; the quiet felt strangely warm, but also fragile, as if another sound would shatter the feeling of Taekwoon he’d managed to hold on to. It was only as he was climbing into bed, alone, that the true angst set in.

He was utterly doomed.

The next morning, when he got to his desk, there was a cup of tea and a scone waiting for him.

“Good morning,” Hakyeon said softly into the empty room, smiling.

“And that’s everything,” Hongbin said, placing the last file on Hakyeon’s desk with a heavy thwap. Three whole days’ worth of documents weighed quite a bit. “Every breach, upgrade, new prevention protocols—”

“New policies for login management relating to social media, as well as an official grievance policy in the event of abuse—” Wonshik continued, adding his own file.

“Mina’s restraining order, her police contact, and the company lawyer earmarked for her if needed,” Sanghyuk said, tossing down a third.

“Most importantly, this,” Jaehwan said, laying down an A3 sized full color photograph of a basket of puppies.

“Vital, of course,” Wonshik agreed gravely.

“This is excellent work,” Hakyeon told the group, beaming proudly. “I’m sure the board will be pleased.”

“I hope ‘pleased’ is code for ‘sweet, sweet bonuses in our accounts this pay cycle’”, Hongbin suggested. “I need to pay someone to sleep for me.”

“ _For_ me,” Sanghyuk said, making air quotes. Hongbin glared at him.

“Sleeping _on_ you seems to have been more effective,” Jaehwan volunteered brightly. Wonshik had the reflexes to grab Hongbin around the waist as he launched himself at Jaehwan, and Sanghyuk jumped between them shouting for everyone to calm down—

Taekwoon stood to the side, quiet. He still wasn’t sure he’d really contributed in this situation in any way, but it was nice to see Hakyeon smiling again, and hanging out with the others had been fun. As the “fight” moved out into the hall, Jaehwan called over his shoulder.

“Hyung! We’re going for drinks, are you coming?”

“Not tonight,” Hakyeon said, sitting down. “But thanks!”

“Taekwoon-hyung?”

Taekwoon shook his head, sitting down in one of the chairs next to Hakyeon’s desk. Jaehwan wiggled his eyebrows and shut the door.

Hakyeon straightened the stack of files with an incredibly content look on his face. Taekwoon watched him, still silent, appreciating the soft happiness that had been so hard to see over the past few days (especially from his self-regulated distance.) Hakyeon felt his gaze, and met his eyes.

Taekwoon knew he was smiling.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Hakyeon asked him primly. “You don’t look familiar...”

“Did you miss me?”

“You’ve asked me that every day.”

“And every day you said yes.”

Hakyeon stood up, coming to stand in front of Taekwoon; he leaned down, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair. Taekwoon ran one hand lightly up the front of Hakyeon’s chest, twisting around his necktie and using it to pull him ever so slightly closer. Hakyeon didn’t need much encouragement.

“Tell me again,” Taekwoon murmured.

“I miss you,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon leaned his head back, smiling even wider.

“I have an idea,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon hummed his interest, so he continued with what was admittedly something of a bold plan, but hopefully a successful one. “Come home with me.”

Hakyeon sucked in a breath.

“Sir,” he said, but before he could get the rest of his protest out, Taekwoon cut him off.

“No funny business,” he said quickly. “Just—just hanging out. Catching up on three days. Maybe a couple of drinks. A movie.”

“Jung Taekwoon, that sounds like a date,” Hakyeon said, straightening up.

“A date is a state of mind,” Taekwoon informed him.

Hakyeon sighed, turning his back to Taekwoon. It only took Taekwoon a couple of seconds to come up behind him, cautiously putting an arm around Hakyeon’s waist and gently—so, so gently—pulling him back against Taekwoon’s chest. He felt the second sigh against his sternum, but Hakyeon had tilted his head to the side, inviting Taekwoon to press his nose behind Hakyeon’s ear. It was an invitation he gladly accepted.

“This is a terrible idea and I should refuse,” Hakyeon said.

“But,” Taekwoon filled in.

“...I have missed you.”

“Then come over,” Taekwoon said again. “We can make up for it.”

“So you can tempt me even more?”

“So I can do this,” Taekwoon said, pressing the softest, briefest kiss against Hakyeon’s jaw that he thought he could get away with. 

“I am taking my _own_ car this time,” Hakyeon informed him sternly. Taekwoon felt the grin split his face; he took Hakyeon’s hand and started pulling him towards the door. Hakyeon pulled free, but before Taekwoon could even pout at him, he added a defensive, “Let me get my briefcase, for goodness’ sake.”

“Sorry,” Taekwoon said immediately. “Excited.” Hakyeon patted his cheek fondly. 

“You’ll have to go first, I can’t remember how to get to your place.”

“It’s easy,” Taekwoon assured him. “Just follow me.”

“Always,” Hakyeon said dramatically, extending a hand with which to be escorted. Taekwoon took him up on it, pressing a quick peck on his fingers before leading him out of the office to the parking garage. The drive was both much too long and much too short; he changed the radio station twelve times before giving up, then rushing to grab Hakyeon’s hand again the second he got out of his car. 

“I’m up here,” Taekwoon reminded him, interlocking their fingers as the climbed the stairs to his apartment. They got in and took off their shoes; Taekwoon beamed at Hakyeon.

“Get comfy,” he said. “I’ll bring food. And drinks. But not alcohol because you’re driving.” Without waiting for a response, he went to the kitchen. Time to start wooing.

There was something inherently strange about returning to the couch he’d once fled, willingly. He settled in the same spot, and after a moment’s hesitation, pulled his leg up in the same way he’d sat so comfortably before. There was a part of him that wanted to knock Taekwoon off-kilter slightly; he was so sure and steady right now. 

It was also extremely attractive, to Hakyeon’s dismay. He felt warm, so he removed his tie and undid a few buttons. What was taking Taekwoon so long? Surely it didn’t take much time to grab snacks and a couple of drinks.

His questions dried up when Taekwoon finally returned with popcorn for snacking and a couple of cokes—minus his own tie, belt, and more buttons than Hakyeon would have dared to try. 

“Are you mad at me?” Taekwoon asked him, looking wary as he set the food down.

“No, why?”

“You look like you want to eat me,” Taekwoon informed him nervously.

 _Because I do,_ Hakyeon thought with an internal sigh. To Taekwoon, he said, “You took off your tie.”

“So did you.”

“And your belt.”

“Who wears a belt in their own home?” Taekwoon asked, settling down on the couch next to Hakyeon, long limbs arranged in a casual slouch. “If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be wearing pants.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know,” Taekwoon said. “Do I like you more or less than pants?”

Deciding to put a hard pass on that question for now, Hakyeon sighed and gestured at the TV.

“You promised me a movie, Jung Taekwoon,” he reminded him. “Don’t get it twisted, I’m here for entertainment, not for you.”

“Obviously,” Taekwoon said. “Preferred genre?”

“Not scary.”

“No horror, got—”

“I didn’t say no horror, I said _not scary_.”

“There’s a difference?” Taekwoon asked, confused.

“Have you seen ‘My Neighbor Totoro’?” Hakyeon asked. 

“Of course.”

“Terrifying,” Hakyeon informed him gravely. “The catbus is a thing of absolute nightmares.” Taekwoon burst into delighted laughter, so Hakyeon felt more than justified in leaning back and lifting his leg to kick at Taekwoon’s side. 

“Right, so nothing more intense than Pingu, basically?” Taekwoon said after fending off the attack.

“Pingu…” Hakyeon trailed off nervously.

“What?! No Pingu?!”

“There’s something about the mouths,” Hakyeon said. “Highly cursed.”

“Why don’t you just scroll until you find something that won’t traumatize you then?” Taekwoon asked, passing Hakyeon the remote. “I’ve got cable.”

“I would hope you do,” Hakyeon said. “Otherwise this is going to be a very boring movie night.”

Taekwoon laughed, but went quiet as Hakyeon flipped through channels. At first the silence was comfortable, but Hakyeon was becoming increasingly aware of it, and consequently increasingly aware of Taekwoon. Most concerning, this awareness didn’t fill him with as much alarm as it should have.

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said softly. “Let’s play a game.”

“We’re watching a movie,” Hakyeon reminded him.

“We can play and watch,” Taekwoon assured him. Hakyeon was skeptical, but muted the TV to hear Taekwoon’s proposal.

“Let’s pretend we’re dating,” Taekwoon said eagerly.

“That is a terrible idea,” Hakyeon informed him flatly. It sounded like the perfect way to end up crossing lines again, and he was very wary of doing anything that brought his not-so-internal battle to the surface.

“It’s just pretend, though,” Taekwoon insisted. “What’s wrong with that?”

“What would that even _mean_?” Hakyeon asked.

“We act like we’re dating,” Taekwon repeated, as if that clarified it in any way whatsoever.

“This sounds like an excuse to—do things,” Hakyeon said carefully, adjusting his boundary to be more generic.

“I told you at the office, no funny business,” Taekwoon reminded him with a spectacular pout and adorable whine. Hakyeon sighed. It still sounded like a terrible idea, but he was discovering he had a weakness for Taekwoon’s whining in general; it triggered an instinctive need to fuss and comfort.

“Fine,” he said. “But seriously, no funny business, or I’m out that door.”

“Understood,” Taekwoon said with a solemn expression. Hakyeon wasn’t sure he was really buying it, but they went back to the movie without further discussion; it was a romantic comedy that he felt like he’d seen before, but not clearly enough to remember the details. It was just vague enough to hold his attention. Taekwoon’s small couch was comfy enough, but Hakyeon felt himself shifting until his back was against the arm and his socked feet drawn up. Taekwoon passed him a throw pillow to put behind him, and as Hakyeon settled—

Taekwoon picked up his feet and put them in his lap. Hakyeon squeaked.

“What are you doing?!”

“Holding... your feet?”

“Why?!”

“Because you work in an office and wear those awful business shoes all day?” Taekwoon said, feigning confusion. “So pinchy.” As he spoke, his hands began moving across Hakyeon’s foot, kneading at the sole and working out the spots that were—well, pinchy.

It felt very, very nice. Despite his best efforts, Hakyeon felt himself relaxing under Taekwoon’s careful attention.

“I better not find out you have a foot fetish,” he grumbled. Taekwoon beamed.

“The only fetish I have is you, babe,” he said so causally Hakyeon almost missed it.

“ _Babe!?_ ”

“No? Honey, then?” Taekwoon suggested. “Darling?”

“I mean—personally I lean towards ‘sweetheart’,” Hakyeon mumbled. Taekwoon tilted his head, considering in.

“Sounds like a you thing,” he said after a moment. He switched to Hakyeon’s other foot, continuing with his firm but meticulous massaging. “I’ll stick with ‘babe’.”

As much as Hakyeon wanted to argue the point, Taekwoon’s attention had gone back to the TV, and his hands continued their magic on his tired feet. There was something so weirdly comfortable about the situation; it felt natural. Taekwoon tried to reach for the bowl of popcorn he’d left on the low coffee table without letting go of Hakyeon, but his fingers fell short. Hakyeon grabbed it for him, about to pass it, but—

Fuck it.

“Say ah,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon blinked at him, but opened his mouth obediently. Hakyeon took aim and pitched a popcorn into his mouth. Taekwoon caught it and smiled as he chewed.

“More,” he said, opening up again. Hakyeon’s aim went a little off this time and it dropped into Taekwoon’s lap, causing them both to laugh. The third toss went in, and they spent the next five straight minutes playing popcorn basketball and not paying attention to the movie in the slightest.

“Are you coming next weekend?” Taekwoon asked softly. Hakyeon frowned, unsure. “Sunday. I’m babysitting Minyul, remember? My sister said you could come.” For a moment, Hakyeon was certain he’d either started hallucinating, or developed amnesia. Then Taekwoon winked and Hakyeon remembered: the game.

“What am I supposed to do with _my_ nephew?” Hakyeon pouted at him. 

“Bring him?” Taekwoon suggested. “We were going to hit that new toy store on the way to the park.”

“Two nephews are better than one,” Hakyeon agreed. “Alright, we’ll come.”

“Great,” Taekwoon beamed at him. “Plus, it’s good practice.”

“Practice?” Hakyeon asked, raising an eyebrow. Taekwoon patted his feet.

“For ours,” he said simply, turning back to the TV screen with the smile still on his face. Hakyeon’s heart skipped a beat or two; he made it sound so... certain. Like this future already existed for them, and all he had to do was take one last step into it. The family picture popped back into his head, only this time, Taekwoon with a chubby baby didn’t fill him with alarm.

It filled him with something much warmer, somehow.

“How many are we shooting for, anyway?” he asked curiously, wondering how far Taekwoon had walked down this road himself.

“Three at minimum,” Taekwoon said. “Right?”

“And at maximum?”

“Does there need to be a maximum?” Taekwoon asked him, pouting. 

“So we’re just going to be perpetually adopting children,” Hakyeon said.

“Sounds fun,” Taekwoon replied easily. “We’ll need a big house though.”

“And a nanny,” Hakyeon said with a sigh. “Someone to be with them while we work.”

“Do I have to work?” Taekwoon asked, the pout escalating in intensity. “I’d rather just stay home.”

“You, a stay-at-home dad?” Hakyeon snorted. Taekwoon’s pout was now at a level that made Hakyeon have to fight the urge to pinch his cheeks.

“I’d be good at it, kids like me,” Taekwoon insisted.

“More than being the heir to—”

“I don’t want to talk about the company,” Taekwoon interrupted him sharply. It wasn’t quite angry, but there was an edge to the statement that Hakyeon hadn’t heard before. He couldn’t place it, but he could respect the request.

“We have kids, a house,” Hakyeon said, hoping to lead him back to the happy future, even if it was a fake one. “We must be married.”

“For years,” Taekwoon said, looking down.

“Tell me how you proposed, then,” Hakyeon said, nudging at Taekwoon with his foot. Taekwoon hummed, leaning back and looking at the ceiling as he, presumably, planned his hypothetical proposal to his hypothetical husband.

“Nothing big or showy,” he said after a while. “I took you somewhere quiet and scenic.”

“The beach,” Hakyeon murmured, caught up in the fantasy.

“The beach,” Taekwoon agreed, smiling. “Out of season; early spring, no one else was there.”

“How did you ask?”

“It was easy,” Taekwoon said.

“Oh?”

“This thing we have,” he continued. His eyes met Hakyeon’s and locked. Hakyeon could feel his heart start pounding; why did this feel so—

Not like a game, anymore?

“Let’s make it real,” Taekwoon murmured. All of the air left Hakyeon’s lungs. “Will you marry me, Cha Hakyeon?”

He wanted it. Dear god, he wanted it so badly that it physically _hurt_. He withdrew his legs, sitting properly on the sofa and forcing himself to take deep, steadying breaths. It was too much—it had been too much from the start. Taekwoon said it was just a game, but Hakyeon knew it had never been a game for him, and that was the problem. He couldn’t play when every single thing about this was also everything he’d already resigned himself to never, ever having.

Hakyeon’s dreams, that he given up on and pushed down inside himself, roared back to life.

“Hakyeon?” Taekwoon asked, sounding concerned. He placed a warm hand on Hakyeon’s knee. “Are you okay?”

“What if I said no?” Hakyeon asked softly, too raw to look Taekwoon in the eye. “Then what?”

“...Would you?” Taekwoon asked, just as soft.

“I don’t know,” Hakyeon told him honestly. “I don’t—there’s so much to consider. So much to lose.”

“Why do you look at it that way?” Taekwoon asked him. “Why can’t it be ‘so much to gain’?”

For a moment, Hakyeon was frozen; he didn’t know the answer, anymore than he knew what to do with it if he did.

“Can we finish the movie?” he asked, putting a hand over Taekwoon’s. Taekwoon turned his palm-up and closed around Hakyeon’s, before interlocking their fingers.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s finish the movie.” Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to Hakyeon’s temple.

Hakyeon hated how _right_ it felt.

Taekwoon knew the whole game was a risk, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted Hakyeon to get out of his pessimistic headspace and into one that was bright and happy and _theirs._ He meant every word: the nephew playdates, the house full of kids, the ring on Hakyeon’s finger. Taekwoon would give him the world and then some, if Hakyeon would just take this one, single chance.

They finished the movie quietly, with Hakyeon sitting next to him on the sofa and allowing Taekwoon to play with his fingers. Sometimes Hakyeon would even lean his head on Taekwoon’s shoulder, and Taekwoon would stop breathing, delighted by the rare closeness. Everything Hakyeon did, he savored, trying to commit every detail to memory in case—

In case Hakyeon put his foot down for good, and all of this came to an end.

As the credits rolled, Hakyeon sighed, got up, and despite Taekwoon’s very best puppy dog eyes, insisted he had to go home.

“You could stay a little longer,” Taekwoon suggested.

“No sir,” Hakyeon said. “My bed awaits.”

“My bed also awaits,” Taekwoon pointed out in a less-than-innocent tone. Hakyeon tapped him on the nose.

“No funny business,” he reminded Taekwoon. “I’ll see you on Monday, Taekwoon.”

As Hakyeon turned to leave, Taekwoon caught his wrist and pulled up his hand, putting one last kiss on the back of his fingers. Hakyeon actually rolled his eyes, which Taekwoon took to be a good sign; ‘cheesy’ was better than ‘rude’, after all. Hakyeon got halfway out the door before stopping, and turning back.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked.

“Anything,” Taekwoon said.

“If I text you,” Hakyeon asked, unusually nervous, “can we... keep playing?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know,” Hakyeon told him, “but maybe I’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll do it,” Taekwoon promised. “You’re going to get tired of my emojis.”

“I hope so,” Hakyeon said, smiling with sad eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Taekwoon answered, watching him get into his car and leave. When he got back into his living room, it felt achingly cold and empty; it reminded him too much of that first disastrous night, and he found himself reaching for his phone without even thinking about it.

 _What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?_ he shot off. In less than a minute, his phone buzzed with a reply.

_Pancakes. With fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Same as you made for our anniversary._

Taekwoon beamed.

Taekwoon: _What are your mom’s favorite flowers?_  
Hakyeon: _Mums, why?_  
Taekwoon: _Mother’s day is coming up_  
Hakyeon: _You suck-up_  
Taekwoon: _gotta keep up my rep as her favorite son-in-law (´꒳`)_  
Hakyeon: _What about your mom?_  
Taekwoon: _Yellow daisies!_  
Hakyeon: _Noted._

Taekwoon: _hypothetically, if I accidentally volunteered to dog-sit for the neighbor next week, how in trouble would I be?_  
Hakyeon: _Hypothetically, it depends on how big and cute the dog is._  
Taekwoon: _medium, but very fluffy_  
Hakyeon: _Yappy?_  
Taekwoon: _negative, he produces legit borks_  
Hakyeon: _You are not in trouble provided I am allowed to boop the snoot._  
Taekwoon: _(≧∇≦*)_

Taekwoon: _I miss you._

Hakyeon: _Did you get the dry-cleaning?_  
Taekwoon: _oops, forgot, sorry._  
Hakyeon: _nvm, I’ll grab it on my way home._  
Taekwoon: _Can you get diapers too?_  
Hakyeon: _I thought we had a full pack left…_  
Taekwoon: _I may have let the baby eat four tangerines_  
Hakyeon: _Σ(･口･) with that kind of fiber load?! Dear god…_  
Taekwoon: _maybe you should buy two packs…_  
Hakyeon: _Changed my mind, going to go live in my office._  
Taekwoon: _HAKYEON NO_

Hakyeon: _What are we thinking, name-wise, for the next baby?_  
Taekwoon: _Maxx_  
Hakyeon: _We are not naming our baby after your celebrity crush._  
Taekwoon: _fine_  
Hakyeon: _how about Seohyun?_  
Taekwoon: _wooooooow_  
Hakyeon: _(♡´艸`)_  
Taekwoon: _Something meaningful, something we both love_  
Hakyeon: _No food, sweetheart._  
Taekwoon: _I didn’t even say it yet (TдT)_  
Hakyeon: _No, but you were going to._

Taekwoon: _I miss you._

Hakyeon: _Bad news: I think my butt sincerely outgrew the navy suit._  
Taekwoon: _correction, that is incredible news, your butt is *chefs kiss*_  
Hakyeon: _Are you serious or are you joking, do not lie to me, I am a cancer and very insecure._  
Taekwoon: _1000% serious, your butt is fantastic._  
Hakyeon: _Okay, so what do I do about my pants?_  
Taekwoon: _no idea, but now I’m going to spend the rest of the day thinking about your butt_  
Hakyeon: _You are welcome._  
Taekwoon: _(＾ω＾)_

Taekwoon: _if my socks are 50% wool and 50% acrylic, can I put them in the washer?_  
Hakyeon: _On cold, gentle-wash, should be fine._  
Taekwoon: _they’re very ugly and a gift_  
Hakyeon: _Then maximum heat, aggressive wash, hit the laundromat and let them melt in the dryer for half an hour, apologize profusely when questioned about them._  
Taekwoon: _You’re the best, babe._  
Hakyeon: _I try._

Taekwoon: _I miss you._

Hakyeon: _My sister just broke up with her boyfriend._  
Taekwoon: _Oh no, is she okay?_  
Hakyeon: _Not really. They were together for a long time, but he cheated._  
Taekwoon: _Should I hire a hitman? My dad’s rich, we could probably pull it off._  
Hakyeon: _Not yet, but maybe do some research just in case._  
Taekwoon: _d( >_･ )_

Taekwoon: _I miss you._  
Hakyeon: _I miss you too._  
Taekwoon: _See you tomorrow morning?_  
Hakyeon: _Yes. See you then._

Taekwoon was pulling his briefcase out of the car while trying to balance his usual tray of coffees and tea when his phone rang. He sighed and put the drinks on the roof, pulling it out and answering.

“Woonie?”

“Dad?” he said, confused. “Hang on, I just got out of my car—”

“Taekwoon, I think you should come to my office. Now.”

“Did something happen?” Taekwoon asked, slightly worried by the serious tone in his father’s voice.

“Just come, quickly,” his father said, still oddly serious. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

“I have to stop at Hakyeon’s—”

“Straight here, Taekwoon,” his father said. “Now.”

Taekwoon didn’t need to be told twice; he started off at a clip, which increased to a jog, which escalated to a run once he got close to the elevators. There was something off about the entire conversation: it felt wrong, and the more time he had to think about it as the elevator took off towards the penthouse offices, the more he felt sick. Had something gone wrong with the board and the Jaehwan situation? Had there been another hacking attempt? Was someone else in trouble?

Whatever it was, he really hoped Hakyeon was already working up a plan, because Taekwoon would be in over his head regardless.

He pushed open the office door, without knocking, as usual. What was unusual was the expression on his father’s face.

It was guarded.

“Have a seat, Taekwoon,” his father said, gesturing at a chair placed across from his desk. Increasingly wary, Taekwoon sat, glancing around the room. Where was Hakyeon? Had he already gone back to his office to work on... whatever this was?

“What’s going on?” Taekwoon asked, confused. Without a word, his father pushed an envelope across the desk. Taekwoon looked at it, then back at his father.

“I want you to read that,” his father informed him. “And then I want to talk.”

Taekwoon picked it up and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside: it was on company letterhead. As he scanned it, his blood ran cold.

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_After much personal reflection, I have decided to resign from my position at this company. I have deeply enjoyed my work and am eternally grateful for the trust and opportunities granted to me over the past few years. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience my departure may bring, and will happily recommend Han Sanghyuk for a position in my department; he is an asset and has a great deal he can bring to the table._

_Thank you from the bottom of my heart; I hope that the personal connections I have forged in my position continue into the personal as I take my next steps._

_Sincerely,_  
Cha Hakyeon  
Director of Human Resources 

Taekwoon looked at his father, mouth open in shock.

“Hakyeon brought this to me twenty minutes ago,” his father said.

“ _Why?!_ ” Taekwoon asked, staggering.

“I’m not sure,” his father answered. “He told me he’d thought it over very carefully, though. Said there was something important coming up that he’d been waiting for. He might have been head-hunted.”

“He would have told you that,” Taekwoon said.

“And I would hope he would have known to refuse,” his father said. “I’d match whatever he was offered.”

“Where is he?” Taekwoon asked urgently.

“He said he was leaving immediately,” his father said. “He’s probably bringing his things to his car now.”

Taekwoon got up from the chair so quickly he knocked in backwards. He was halfway out the door when his father called him back.

“Taekwoon!”

“What?!”

“...Don’t make him regret you, son,” his father said, smiling. Taekwoon took off again, choosing to run down the stairs rather than wait for an elevator. 

His head was spinning. Why? Why would Hakyeon do this? Why would he run away? Was this Taekwoon’s fault? Had he pushed it too far, and made Hakyeon uncomfortable? Did he ruin everything for this incredible man?

He made it to Hakyeon’s parking spot in under five minutes; Hakyeon was there, loading a few boxes into his trunk. Taekwoon stopped next to him, breathing hard.

“Hakyeon, what—”

“Oh,” Hakyeon said. “You’re... here.”

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Taekwoon said, grabbing Hakyeon by the shoulders. Hakyeon said nothing; Taekwoon could feel himself panicking and his grip tightened.

“Why are you leaving?” he asked, baffled. “This job—this is your entire life.”

“Yeah,” Hakyeon agreed. “It was.”

“Then why—”

“Did you mean it?” Hakyeon asked him.

“What—mean what?”

“The game. Missing me. Did you mean it?” he clarified.

“Hakyeon—”

“Did you miss me, Jung Taekwoon?”

“Yes,” Taekwoon said. 

Hakyeon wrapped a hand around the knot of his tie and _yanked_ , pulling Taekwoon forward so hard he pressed Hakyeon back against the trunk of his car. When Hakyeon’s lips met his, insistent and sure, Taekwoon immediately melted against him. Every time his heart beat, it felt like he was getting hotter, and Hakyeon’s mouth was the only cure to his growing, insatiable thirst. Hakyeon gasped under him and Taekwoon ran a hand through his hair, loving the feeling not just of Hakyeon beneath him, but Hakyeon wanting to be there.

Finally, they needed air.

“Jung Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, breathless. “If you proposed to me—I’m pretty sure I’d say yes.”

“You’re quitting for _me?!_ ” Taekwoon asked, alarmed.

“No, sweetheart,” Hakyeon said, smiling so warmly it felt like sunlight. “I’m quitting for us.”

“Hakyeon—”

“I can get another job,” Hakyeon said. “I can find another company, another team. But I can’t find another you. I don’t _want_ another you.”

“You’ve been waiting,” Taekwoon repeated.

“I have,” Hakyeon said. “I’m tired of it.”

Taekwoon didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to stand there and promise Hakyeon that it would be worth it, or that it would all work out okay, or that everything they’d talked about and played with would ever actually, honestly happen.

But he knew he wanted to try, because he’d been waiting too.

“My dad is never going to let me forget this, you know,” Taekwoon informed him. Hakyeon laughed, slinging both arms around Taekwoon’s neck and pulling him down for more kissing. In a pause, he beamed.

“He’ll forgive us after the third grandchild, I’m sure.”

Taekwoon kissed him again, and again, and again.

_Finally._

“I like it,” Hakyeon said, holding up an iPad. “It looks so nice and professional.” The image on his screen was a cleverly-designed logo: CHA CONSULTING read in a solid block font beneath it.

“Wonshik does have an eye for design,” Taekwoon agreed, handing Hakyeon his toast. “Is this the one?”

“It better be, we’re supposed to order the letter head next week,” Hakyeon snorted, sipping his tea. Taekwoon snuggled up next to him on Hakyeon’s couch—well, maybe it was also kind of his couch. He’d spent more days on this one than his own in the past two months.

“I know it looks like I don’t care, but I do,” he promised Hakyeon. Hakyeon laughed and patted his cheek.

“You care in a very careless way,” he said. “It’s fine, you’re not the one starting a company here.”

“Dad said you’ll have to outbid him for Hyukkie,” Taekwoon reminded him.

“Sanghyuk can handle himself,” Hakyeon said. “If he wants to leave, he can leave.”

“In the meantime?”

“In the meantime, I’ll stick to jobs that one person can handle,” Hakyeon explained. “Baby steps.”

“And then I can quit?” Taekwoon asked eagerly. Hakyeon laughed.

“I’m not sure you can be a stay at home dad before there are kids to dad at,” Hakyeon reminded him. He had a point, but Taekwoon was always trying to push their personal time line as far into the domestic as he could. Maybe he didn’t have a biological clock ticking, but his unrelenting need to nest and have at-minimum three babies to care for seemed to be getting more severe every day.

“House husband, then,” Taekwoon amended. “I can already cook.”

“Is your dad still set on you taking over?” Hakyeon asked, eyebrows raised.

“God, no,” Taekwoon snorted. “Three months and I’m as useless as ever; my sister’s been in there two weeks and she already has control of roughly one third of the building. She’s a better heir in every possible way.”

“I hate to be the one to break this to you,” Hakyeon said, “But he already knew that.”

“Then what was the point of sending me around?” Taekwoon whined, burying his face into Hakyeon’s neck.

“Character building,” Hakyeon said primly. “Also maybe he was hoping you’d snag a husband in the process.

“Well, in that case,” Taekwoon sighed. “I guess it kind of worked.”

Hakyeon smiled, drawing Taekwoon close enough for a kiss.

“I guess it did,” he agreed. 

“We could name the baby Yunho.”

“Oh, so _your_ celebrity crushes are fine?!”


End file.
